


The Fae Path

by ShivaeSyke



Series: Metamorphosis [5]
Category: Disney Princesses, Strange Magic (2015), The Princess and the Frog (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Bog Has Family, Choosing your Family, Corgis, Disney Cameos, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fairies Attract Fairies, Fluff, Great Depression, Honeymoon, Mardi Gras, Marianne's Brother, New Orleans, Nymphs & Dryads, Orphans, Period-Typical Racism, Road Trips, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 51,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShivaeSyke/pseuds/ShivaeSyke
Summary: Bog and Marianne venture into the human world to try and get rid of Roland once and for all.*Officially set this universe into 1932. Will rewrite the prior volumes.*
Relationships: Beast/Belle (Disney), Bog King/Marianne (Strange Magic), Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel, Naveen/Tiana (Disney), wreck - Relationship
Series: Metamorphosis [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1450054
Comments: 44
Kudos: 14





	1. Her Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog prepares for the trip to get rid of Roland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been in my mind for a while. Then it exploded.  
> I wanted to explain the humans that live nearby and with it.. hahah.. we're going into the human world! This is going to be such a fun trip to spend Valentine's day in the human world AND get rid of Roland!   
> NOTHING could go wrong.  
> Oh... did I write a story where they said how much they despised Valentine's day... :D :D  
> I am going to rewrite Meta soon. There will be a ton of changes, starting with Winter Wings and Meta take place in 1932. That won't bother anything but the short story and the dogs. Corgis were not imported into the US until 1932.

“I do not want to go,” grumbled Bog as his mother stood before his throne, her hands on her hips. 

“Last spring, you didn’t go for a good reason,” started Griselda, clasping and unclasping her hands. Duncan sat at her feet, making snorting noises at Bog, as though backing Griselda up. “You need to let the humans know that Caderyn has passed.” 

“Why?” grunted Bog, rolling his staff in his hands, fixing his mother with a glare. “What do humans care about us?” 

“Bog,” Griselda began again, her brows lowering over her glinting brown eyes. “It is the right thing to do, and you need to take your rightful place as our intermediary.” 

“Mother,” Bog groaned, running his hand over his face. He ground his teeth and looked around the empty throne room. “The goblins haven’t woken from their winter sleep. I should be here for them when they wake.” 

“Pshaw.” Griselda shook her head, waving a hand at her son. “I can handle them if they wake. You are making excuses. Just go to the house and let them know that you are the Bog King now, and Caderyn passed away.” She paused, her head down, staring at her hands. “They need to know.” 

“Fine,” snapped Bog, rising to his feet. His wings flew out behind him in an annoyed half flare. “I will go and tell them if you’ll drop it.” He lowered his wings, grinding his jaw as he looked at his mother. ‘I still don’t understand why you are insisting I tell them. What do they care?” 

“They will care,” replied Griselda sadly. “Maybe you should stay for a few days. Get to know them.” 

“No.” Bog took to the air, hovering above his throne. “I don’t need to get to know a bunch of humans.” 

### 

Bog tapped his fingers on his desk, a map laid out in front of him. He looked over his shoulder and smiled, seeing his wife sprawled out on her back in their bed. She always needed a little more sleep than he did and slept like the dead. She even snored--the soft sound rising through her nose every few minutes. 

The map was a list of places, human places, that he had planned on taking Marianne to for Valentine’s Day. He wanted to show her the things humans did and break the monotony of winter. Unfortunately, their plans included other fairies because they were bringing two guards to help them handle Roland. 

The bane of their existence and the reason they were even together now needed to be taken to a remote place in the human world and abandoned. He was now an outcast, never to be permitted to enter their kingdom again. They stripped him of his wings, and he was a monster who would be noticed on sight. 

Roland surrendered and accepted his punishment. He had been treated and was healing from the injuries Ciara gave him, but he could travel. Getting him far away from the kingdom and his wife was a priority. 

They planned to leave in the morning, and Bog would let Marianne in on one of his secrets concerning the human world. He smiled, thinking about how happy the news of his marriage would make his human friends when he told them. 

### 

Bog grumbled and growled the entire way to the fairy circle. He did not want to see any stupid humans. They would not care one little bit about his father passing, not nearly as much as he did. It still stung, and he hated being reminded that he was alone. His thoughts went back to how his father had been injured. 

That awful hunt that ended wrong. The neighboring king was to blame. He was the one that wanted the hunt to begin with. Bog’s eyes began to sting, and he threw the thoughts as far away as he could, running the back of his hand over his eyes. He couldn’t allow himself to be unsettled before meeting the humans. 

Frost covered the brown earth below him--tendrils of white curling over masses of dead leaves. It was chilly, but he tolerated it without a problem--until he flew into the fairy circle and stepped out as a human. The cold slapped his bare skin, turning it rosy pink as he exhaled a cloud of steam. 

Bog shivered, stumbling to retrieve the key and open the door to the trailer. He had only been here once before when they got his mother the dog, but he remembered everything. There was the box where he had left it, the one holding his human clothes. He went for it, pulling out the shirt first. 

It was tighter than it had been when he put it on the first time, especially around the shoulders. Everything else was similar. In the last year and a half, he had grown fast and put on weight and wasn’t likely to have finished filling out. At seventeen, he towered over everyone in his kingdom. 

Bog muttered at his shoes, shoving his feet into them and finding them tight like everything else. He could have walked to the house barefoot, but it was too cold, and the ground bit at his sensitive human toes. 

A few minutes later, he hurried up to the human house and knocked on the door. He just had to tell her the news, then get undressed and return to the castle. It would be easy. 

The door rattled and opened a few minutes later, and a short matronly woman looked out curiously, her eyes landing on Bog. Madeline smiled, then looked next to him, noting he was alone. The smile vanished. 

“It’s good to see ye, Bog.” She smiled again, pushing the door open. “Where is yer father?” 

“I won’t be here long,” said Bog, his anger fading into nervousness. A pit rose in his throat, tugging at the muscles. “I ah, needed to tell ye that my father, Caderyn, passed away last year.” 

Madeline stared at him, her green eyes beginning to water in a way that made Bog uncomfortable. She stood in the door in silence, then took a hitching breath and broke into a sob. “Come inside, Bog,” she said as tears streamed down her face. 

“I ah, don’t mean to bother ye,” mumbled Bog, ashamed and uncomfortable by her reaction. He hadn’t thought she would care at all and her tears made him want to cry as well. The admission that his father was gone hurt like a punch to the gut. He had never said the words aloud. 

“Nonsense.” Madeline reached out and took his hand, dragging him inside her house. He stumbled over the threshold and hung his head, clasping his hands in front of him. “I want to know what happened if ye don’t mind.” 

“It was a hunt gone wrong,” said Bog as he was ushered through the house and into the sitting room. “Father was injured and didn’t recover.” 

Madeline wiped her eyes with a hander chief, rushing to the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. Bog sat on the couch, trying to figure out how to leave, when he heard someone else enter the kitchen. “Who was at the door, Mom?” 

It was Clara. 

Whispering came from the kitchen, and Bog heard a gasp and choking sound. The sound drifted from the kitchen, along with more whispering. There were three humans in the kitchen. Bog glanced around, wanting nothing more than to leave. He hadn’t expected this kind of reaction. The women sounded upset, and he didn’t know what he would say when they inevitably joined him in the sitting room. 

The last and first time he was here, his father did all the talking. Now, Bog was alone and confused. The humans shouldn’t have cared at all, but they were crying in the same way his mother had--the same as he had. 

“I’ll make some hot tea for you, Bog,” said Madeline from the doorway a moment later. “Would you like something for breakfast? I have fresh bread and eggs. I can make toast and eggs?” 

Bog took a sharp breath. “Ah, uh, don’t want to put yet out.” 

“Nonsense, Bog,” said Madeline with a forced smile. “I don’t get much company. Clara and Marie will want to say good morning to ye when they’re ready. I know ye don’t have a lot to do when it’s winter, so why don’t ye stay and talk a bit?” 

Bog nodded dumbly. “I guess I can.” He reminded himself that Madeline knew all about his father and their home. Clara and Marie knew nothing. 

Bog found himself at the dining room table an hour later, A plate of toast and eggs set before him and a glass of milk next to it. The smell made him hungrier than he had been, and he tried the milk first. It was delicious, like nothing he had ever had in his life. The eggs and toast were different, too, and he ate hungrily, enjoying every bite. 

“Good morning, Bog,” said a strange voice. It was familiar, but not all the way. Bog looked up to see a teenaged girl sit across from him with a plate. She had a pale face and kinked red hair tied back with a blue ribbon. Marie. It’s Marie,” she said with a smile. 

Her smile was beautiful. 

### 

Bog folded his map and shaded the amber light. He would go over it again before they left, then transcribe the locations on a map when they left. Most of the places were already on a map and written in a traveler’s notebook in the human house. 

He stretched and ambled to the bed, taking a moment to pull the light cover in front of the fireplace. Little bits of golden light flickered over the walls and ceiling. Bog reached out to touch Marianne’s shoulder. 

“Whasit?” Marianne shifted, a sleepy smile crossing her face. 

Bog said nothing, gently rolling her shoulder. Thankfully, she moved instead of pushing back. Depending on how awake or asleep she was, she might even have thrown a fist at him to keep from being forced to move. Sleeping in the same bed was a new experience for both of them. Unintentionally smacking into each other, catching a wing, or almost pushing the other out of bed happened. 

“Go back to sleep, love,” whispered Bog as Marianne shifted to lay on her side, curling up, tucking her legs closer to her body. She murmured something and sighed contentedly. Bog took a moment to carefully adjust her flowing wings around her so he wouldn’t catch them beneath him. “Busy day tomorrow.” 

Bog curled around her, a position he quickly found was the most relaxing for him. It didn’t matter how good Marianne was with a sword or combat in general. This was a time he protected her, even if there was nothing to protect her from. He enjoyed holding her securely, just the thought of being there for her. 

“Sleep well, love.” Bog mumbled, burying his face into her thick hair and kissing her. “Tomorrow, we get rid of the monster.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee... it appears Bog took another chance at love in between Willow and Marianne.... :D


	2. False Hopes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having struck out among his own people, Bog attempts to start a relationship with a human girl, with unexpected results.

Bog stayed with the Kings for over a week. Madeline gave him a room she said his father had stayed in when he was with them. It was a large room with a large antique oak bed that took up most of the room. The room held a pair of cushioned chairs, a dresser, and a desk made out of the same wood. Carved into the wood were fancy designs featuring forests and fairies. 

There was a quilt across the bed that had been made by Madeline's mother, Eileen. 

Ciara, his black cat, followed him from room to room as he spent time with the humans, and more importantly--Marie. Bog stayed to be around Marie, getting to know her and having a good time in general. The human world wasn't so bad, and the humans treated him well--like part of the family. 

One morning, Bog wanted to take Marie out to the forest. It was warm enough--they didn't need coats. On one of the previous days, they had gone into town to get Bog clothes that fit better. He was still getting accustomed to them, but they no longer made him itch, and most of the time, he forgot they were on. 

They walked into the woods, side by side, Marie dressed in a sweater and wool skirt for warmth. 

"What do you think of the woods?" inquired Bog, his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her. There were things he wanted to tell her today. He wanted her to know what he was. Then again, maybe he didn't. If she saw him for what he was, she could be disgusted. There was another possibility. 

Bog had given it considerable thought over the week as his emotions took over, urging him to act because frankly, she was the only girl who had given him any attention. She had no idea who he was or what he was. They got along and liked similar things. Something about her was just incredible, and he wanted to stay with her and see what would happen. 

He entertained the idea of splitting his time between his kingdom and the human world. 

"I love them," Marie said, glancing at Bog. "I've always loved them. It's where you live, isn't it?" 

"Yes," Bog nodded, "deep in the woods." 

"Can I see it?" Marie asked curiously. "I've always wanted to see where you and … Caderyn lived." 

Bog stopped walking, turning to lay a hand on Marie's shoulder. His human hands could not harm her, not like his goblin ones could. 

"It's nothing special." Bog ran his fingers along her shoulder and took a chance. He touched her cheek, then slid his hand back into her hair. "Not like ye. Ye are special, Marie." 

"Bog." Marie's hand landed on his, and she pushed it gently toward him. 

The gesture startled Bog. They had been getting along well, and he felt like they were close, close enough that he took a chance. Did he misread her? 

"No," said Marie with a sigh, looking him in the eye. She grimaced as though it was hard to do as she closed his hand between hers. "They've been trying to tell you, but you're not paying attention." 

"What do you mean?" Bog looked at her, confused by what was going on. He knew this was an outright rejection, and he took a step back. She held onto his hand. 

"Last night, Mom and Grandma told me some things," whispered Marie looking into Bog's eyes. He swallowed, unsure of what to expect. "They didn't know how to tell you." 

"Tell me what?" Bog furrowed his brows in confusion, unable to think of anything. 

"And they were concerned because they uhm… saw that we liked each other." Marie took a deep breath, clenching his hand between hers. "I do like you. I did, but uh…" 

"Oh?" Bog's heart fell. His first thoughts were that Madeline and Clara knew he was a fairy. Madeline had probably told her daughter, and she probably knew his real appearance. He lowered his head, nodding. "It's okay. I understand." Understanding didn't make it hurt any less. It stung, but maybe there was still a chance. "We don't have to tell them." 

"Bog." The way Marie said his name was unusually stern, a strange embarrassment in her voice. 

"I'll go," said Bog, trying to pull away. It was too much. Once again, a woman he liked turned him as unworthy, and he only wanted to leave, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings. Her fingers dug into his wrist. 

"Madeline is your sister!" Marie blurted out. "Your father had another family before he came to the forest and married your mother. My grandmother is your sister, and I'm related to you." 

Bog froze, staring at her in awe, his eyes widening in shock. "What?" 

"They told me last night before we got any closer," Marie added sadly. 

"What?" Bog worked through what she was telling him, completely confused. His father had another family? A human family? 

"Your father is my great-grandfather," said Marie. "I never really put it together because there are pictures of them together, but I never looked at them closely. There's a picture in your room. I saw you looking at it. They put it there to make you ask questions, but you didn't." 

"I, uh, just thought they were good friends," admitted Bog shamefully. He should have picked up on all the small hints, all of which were now running through his mind. A black and white photograph in a frame sat on the dresser, featuring his father, who looked much younger, as a human. He had his arm around a young human woman with curly hair and an infectious smile. Caderyn was looking forward, and she was leaning against him. 

They told stories about Caderyn that could only have been told by a family member, and he had completely overlooked them. Bog took a deep breath, working through his feelings. "Why does yer family stay among humans? Ye have fairy blood." 

"Grandma explained that we have an important role in our family," Marie began sadly. "Great-grandmother was a human, and when she passed away, Caderyn couldn't remain in a life that reminded him so much of her. Grandmother was married and had kids, so Caderyn left her in charge of his investments and came back to check on them every few months." 

"I know a little of that, but Dad only told me about it last year." Bog grimaced, putting all the visits together. Was his father visiting his human family? And he took Griselda too. 

"I met your mother a few times. She was always nice," said Marie. "She knows they're his family too."

"I guess this was why Mom wanted me to come and spend time with ye." Bog managed a weak smile, then walked closer to Marie, putting his arms around her. "I admit, I uh, did want a girlfriend, but having an actual family is something I never dreamed of." 

Then he became so overwhelmed, the tears he swore never to shed again began flowing freely. There was more in the world than just his mother. He had another family--people who had known his father who could tell him all about him. 

### 

Lincoln and Hubert, two of Dagda's most trustworthy guards who had undergone the winter metamorphosis, waited outside on the flight balcony. Between them, they held Roland, his arms and legs bound. He had recovered enough to be transported out of the fairy kingdom and into the human world. Bog had left several times to procure supplies for their trip over the last week and had not even told Marianne what to expect. 

Lincoln and Hubert were nervous as they left the balcony. Roland was blindfolded and said nothing the entire time, his jaw set firm in defiance. Before the blindfold covered his eyes, Marianne caught him glaring at Bog like if he had the opportunity, he would make his last act in life an attempt to kill him. Any sympathy Marianne had died seeing that expression. She would keep on guard as much as Bog. 

Lincoln carried Roland by a belt wrapping securely around his shoulders, holding his arms closed. They warned Roland that if he attempted to return to their world when he crossed over, no matter by what means, he would be wearing the same clothes and restraints. His wings were gone and would never grow back. The flight muscles were severed when they removed his wings. 

It was a punishment Marianne couldn't remember anyone receiving for hundreds of years. Her father had been regretful but conceded Roland was too much of a threat to be allowed to have his wings. It would be the most significant deterrent to him ever returning. 

"This way." Bog swept his staff forward as the two guards and Marianne followed him deeper into the forest. Lincoln was a strong flier but eventually had to hand Roland to Hubert. By the time they reached the clearing with the fairy circle, Hubert was struggling to keep up. Roland was heavy in his beastly form. 

Bog landed next to the fairy circle, gesturing to the others to land outside. "Okay, I'm going first. Marianne, ye will go last. Wait here, and don't be startled. Ye know yer going to become human, and it will make ye sick. I'm giving ye a better warning than my da gave me." 

Bog flew into the middle of the fairy circle, landed, then stepped to the edge. The moment his foot crossed the perimeter there was a flash of light, and dripping sparkles fell off him, his form changing from the one Marianne had come to know well over the last few months. 

He stepped out a human, wearing human clothes, dressed from head to toe in what appeared to be some strange suit with long pleated grey pants, a shirt with a collar, and shiny brown shoes. He turned, running a hand through his hair, making it stick straight up, purely for Marianne's benefit, showing off the fact that he had hair. 

"Remember, ye wait here for me," he said, turning and walking off past the trees. Everyone stared in silence, astonished at the sight of a human. None of them had ever seen a human, and it struck fear through them, their natural response to fly for cover overwhelming their senses. It was even worse when Bog returned, carrying a stack of clothing. 

"Link." Bog motioned for him to go into the fairy circle. "Walk out. Ye will be naked when ye come out, and I got clothes for ye, so ye get dressed. Hu, ye will be next with Roland." Bog's voice boomed as he crouched near the fairies. "Roland, if ye try to run, I swear I will punch ye in the face and break a leg, so if ye want life to be even harder in the human world, go for it." 

Roland swallowed and nodded. Marianne frowned, turning away as Link flew into the circle. She kept her eyes on Roland. The sound of Lincoln stumbling out of the ring, then vomiting, made her grimace. Bog had warned her about eating anything before they left for this reason. Lincoln recovered after a few minutes, and Bog handed him a set of clothes. 

Marianne grumbled, turning her back to Hubert and Roland as they walked into the circle. She had no desire to see Roland naked. He would probably get some perverse joy out of it. Marianne wouldn't give him the satisfaction. 

Hubert threw up, and so did Roland, making Marianne grimaced. She would go next, and it didn't sound pleasant at all. 

"Get dressed, Roland," growled Bog. 

"Ugh. Human clothes are so rough and hideous." Roland grumbled. 

"Get dressed or go naked." Bog hissed. "I do not care." 

Marianne smiled, listening to Bog. She heard them walking away, going away from the fairy circle. A few minutes later, Bog returned. "Yer turn, love," he motioned to the fairy circle as she looked up at him. "I have them where they can't see ye." 

"Thank you." Marianne took a few deep breaths, working up the nerve to step into the Fairy Circle. Her hand rested on the hilt of her sword, the leather worn smooth and grooved from constant use. "What happens to my things?" 

"I don't know." Bog shrugged. "But they'll be with ye when ye return. I promise. If it makes ye feel better, ye can take it off and pick it up when ye change." He brought out his tiny staff, showing it to Marianne. "I think it comes over with me because it's a relic." 

Marianne stared at the fairy circle, then with one flap of her wings, rose into the air and floated down in the center. Bog stood, his arms out to catch her when she stepped out of the circle. 

Marianne grinned at him, then stepped forward, determined to not throw up or fall. The world spun, and she staggered, splaying her legs and throwing her arms out. Bog grabbed her gently around the waist, and she coughed. Her head was still spinning as she gripped Bog's arms. 

"Ye know, there's no shame in being human," Bog joked. Marianne scowled, not amused in the least. The chill hit her, and Bog grinned. "Ye better get dressed. I don't want to introduce ye like this." 

"You have hair." Marianne grinned, reaching out to run her hand through Bog's pale brown hair. "And you look like a fairy without wings!" She gasped, sliding her hand down the side of his face. "You have hair on your chin? What? Are you trying to grow a beard?" 

"Scruff," chuckled Bog, laying a hand over hers. "Get dressed. I'll shave when we get to the house." 

"Don't you dare!" Marianne laughed, running her hand up and down her arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, at least this went a bit better for him than the first one!


	3. The Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog lets Marianne in on a grand secret and they set off into the human world.

Bog smiled as he watched Marianne get dressed. During the early fall months, he had snuck away several times to visit the humans in the house. It had been five years since the last time he visited, and the world had changed much in that time. While the people who took care of the fairies’ land and whom he took care of through his father’s legacy were doing well, the rest of the world was in a great depression. 

Caderyn had been a master at safe investments and had instilled his way of living into his family. Knowing the current economic situation wouldn’t last forever, there were more investments made in cheap land. Several of them were in preparation for what the future could hold. The family purchased a massive orchard, which perked Bog’s interest when they showed it to him. For now, it was taken care of by another family and was just there for the future. 

Bog gushed about Marianne to his human family as he played with Marie’s young children. The house was full of people, his sister, Madeline, Marie, her husband, who Bog had met once before he secluded himself, and a four-year-old boy named Simon and a two-year-old girl named Eileen. Clara lived in another house down the road with her husband. 

Other family members occupied homes that surrounded the forest that the fairies lived. Not everyone knew they were there, but Bog had met them all, introduced as a family member who lived further away and not in the middle of them. 

Marianne had no problems with the shoes, pants, and shirt, but when she got to the suspenders, she was confused by them. “Bog.” She wrinkled her forehead, holding them out. “Why do I need these?” 

“Style? I don’t know,” admitted Bog, moving to show her how to fasten them. Marie had shown him, unsure if the fairies had anything similar when she showed him the clothes they bought for Marianne. 

“I can do it,” fussed Marianne, fastening the suspenders to her grey trousers, then pulling them over her shoulders. She ran her hands over them, smoothing down the white shirt beneath the straps. Bog handed her a royal blue vest to go over it, and Marianne grinned, admiring the gleaming pale blue design of flowers that decorated it. 

“A little faster, love.” Bog smiled, glad she liked what they had for her. The last item of clothing was a long blue coat trimmed with black fur. “We need to get on the road.” 

“In a ca-ar?” Marianne fastened the buttons on her vest, then reached for the coat. 

“Yes, a car. I’m driving,” said Bog, sliding his hands into his pockets. “It will be a little scary at first, but ye will be fine. But first, I need to introduce ye to some people.” 

“My first time meeting humans.” Marianne giggled, pulling the coat closed, snuggling the collar up against her face. 

Bog smiled, taking her hand. “They are special humans.” 

“Oh? What makes them special?” Marianne walked with him as they headed down the rock path to the house. “And where are Link and Hubert?” 

“Waiting by the car,” replied Bog. This will only take a few minutes, and they are not to know the secret.” 

“Secret? Oooh, there’s a secret?” Marianne laughed, and Bog kept his grin. 

### 

Marianne stumbled, stubbornly trying to keep up with Bog without holding onto his arm. Without her wings, her balance was all over the place. With a resigned sigh, she fell against her husband and wrapped her arms around his, astonished at how different it was. Bog was still Bog, but instead of the typical armor he wore, there was nothing but unfamiliar flesh and bone beneath a cloth sleeve. 

His face was the same down to the warm blue eyes she loved seeing. There were no points to his ears, and she realized, likely none on her own, as she reached for her ear and found only the rounded surface. Bog was still tall, the same proportionate height as her, and he had hair. Her fingers twitched with a desire to run her fingers through it again. 

Bog said nothing as he opened a small white gate at the end of the path. They walked onto a porch, and Bog knocked on the door. Marianne leaned on him, staring at the strange structure. It was so unlike their homes with its rigid box-like structure. Wind chimes hung on the corners of the porch, and there were rocking chairs set out, along with a small table. 

“When we have more time, we will visit longer,” said Bog as footsteps and shouting came from the other side of the door. 

Marianne stared in wonder, unsure of what to expect as the door opened, and a matronly woman stepped forward with a smile for Bog and her. She wiped her hands on her apron before opening the screen door. “Bog, right on time, as usual.” She turned her attention to Marianne. “You must be Marianne.” 

“Yes,” Marianne replied, realizing she wasn’t sure how to talk to a human. There had to be differences in their cultures, and she shouldn’t say a lot until she figured them out. 

“This is my niece, Clara,” stated Bog, smiling at Marianne. She must have given him an appropriately confused look because he grinned wider, showing off his crooked teeth. “The daughter of my half-sister, Madeline. My father had a family before mine.” 

Clara laughed, stepping aside as Bog held the door open and motioned for Marianne to step inside. She kept her eyes on him, taking small steps. Bog had never mentioned having another family. She had assumed Griselda was the only family he had alive. 

“And this is Marie and her husband Darren.” Bog followed close behind her, introducing her to a much younger woman with fiery red hair and her husband, a tall man with straight black hair and brown eyes. “My grandniece and her kids, Simon and Eileen.” 

Marianne suddenly felt at a loss of words and shy, a feeling she had not had since she was a child. Bog’s family. He had a human family? Why didn’t they live in the forest with him? This was so confusing. Why would fairies choose to live as humans? 

“We’re so glad to meet you, Marianne,” said Marie with a grin, her blue eyes looking so familiar. “Bog has told us a lot about you.” 

“You a princess!” Eileen blurted out, clinging to her mother’s skirts. “Princess Maw-e-anne!” 

Marianne laughed, glancing at Bog. “Yes. At home.” For some reason, her eyes began to feel wet, and Marianne quickly wiped them. “It’s nice to meet you.” The little girl smiled bashfully, hiding behind her mother. 

“We will have time to talk another time. I would like to get on the road. We have a long way to travel and will be gone for two weeks.” Bog rested his hand on Marianne’s shoulder. 

Clara stepped forward to wrap her arms around Bog and hug him, then Marie did the same. Marianne clutched his arm, feeling awkward and out of place. Now she knew what Bog felt like when he had met her family or was around her people in general. 

“Welcome to the family, Marianne.” Clara stepped closer, and Marianne accepted the hug, feeling warm inside at the kind, welcoming gesture. Clara let her go and turned to Bog.” Okay, I’ve packed a warm breakfast for you, corn muffins, and bacon. There should be enough for tomorrow too. There’s ham and cheese sandwiches, nuts to snack on, boiled eggs, two quarts of milk, and Twinkies.” 

“We packed the car for you, and there are blankets and pillows to keep you warm,” said Marie holding a large leather satchel out to Bog. “$150 just as you requested. A little more in case of an emergency. And we know how much you like the radios, so we had one installed in the car.” 

“Thank ye,” Bog took the bag and unfastened the flap to check the contents. With a satisfied smile, he closed it and tossed the strap over his shoulder. “I can’t wait to show Marianne what a radio is.” 

“Have a good trip!” Clara said as Bog nudged Marianne to turn. “We’ll visit when you get back.” 

“Goodbye,” Bog glanced over his shoulder, squeezing Marianne’s shoulder. 

This was so unexpected. Marianne tried to keep her footing as they walked back into the porch but decided holding onto Bog was better than taking an undignified plunge off the steps and onto her face. 

“They’re nice,” she said once they passed through the gate. “Why do they live as humans and not fairies?” 

“Remember what I told ye about my father’s colony? How they shunned the human world and were wiped out?” Bog began explaining. 

“Yes.” 

“My father realized it was smart to have fairies related to a colony to live among humans and blend into society.” Bog led the way down the path and onto another one. “It’s served us well in keeping us safe--yer people as well as mine.” 

“You have been to the human world a lot?” Marianne said, realizing there was so much she did not know about her husband. 

“I spent most of my winters with them after my father passed.” Bog let her go as they left the trees and walked out onto a gravel filled area. 

Marianne stopped, staring at the thing that Lincoln stood next to, stamping his feet and rubbing his hands. It was a bizarre-looking rectangular box, lifted off the ground by four wheels. It was cream in color with red accents going over the wheels. The elves at home often used carts or wagons, but they were nothing like this, and there wasn’t any kind of animal hooked up to it. It looked heavy. 

“It’s safe,” said Bog with a chuckle, turning back to give her an amused smile. “Just trust me.” 

Marianne wrinkled her nose, grimacing at the thing--the car. Roland was inside with Hubert--blankets pulled over their shoulders. “Ready to go?” Lincoln inquired hopefully, shoving his hands into the pockets of the long coat he wore. They all wore similar clothing to Bog, dark blue vests over white collared shirts and trousers with a long coat for extra warmth. Roland was dressed in similar clothes but in a green vest. He still had a blindfold over his eyes. 

“Yes, get in.” Bog motioned to the back, and Lincoln bowed, then got into the car, sliding onto the middle seat. “Marianne.” He closed the back door, then opened the front, motioning to her to get in. “It’s just a carriage. It even has a nice name, the Lasalle Touring.” 

“Right.” Marianne nodded, forcing herself to walk to the car, then get inside. The seat was padded enough, covered in leather. Strange smells assaulted her, and she frowned as Bog closed the door, then walked around to the driver’s side. Bog slid into the seat next to her, closing the door with a loud bang. 

“Okay, this is going to be loud, but ye will get used to the sound.” Bog glanced back at the fairies in the back, then to Marianne. “There’s a belt.” He grabbed the seatbelt and showed it to Marianne. “Ye pull it over your lap, and it connects to the other piece. Ye’ll be more comfortable with it on.” There were fumbling sounds from the back as Marianne examined her belt, and the metal ends. It was easy enough to figure it out. She connected them, then dropped it loosely across her lap.

Bog reached over and pulled it tight, then looked into the backseat. “Ye ready?” The two guards nodded in response, and Roland made a huffing sound. Bog turned back around, sliding a key into the ignition and turning it. Marianne yelped unintentionally as the engine roared to life, and the seats shook. Bog turned, giving her a wry smile. “C’mon, tough girl, ye’ll love this.”

“We don’t!” Lincoln shouted from the back seat.

“Bah, don’t be a bunch of fairies.” Bog laughed, turning the wheel and hitting the gas. The car jolted forward, and Marianne grabbed for Bog’s arm. They took off down the road, weaving at what seemed to be a fast speed, definitely much quicker than a rabbit ran. The gravel road flew up around them, making a racket against the underside of the car and tires. 

Marianne clung to Bog’s arm, grimacing at all the strange movements, then opened one eye to look through the windshield, staring out into a world that was far bigger than she could imagine. She wanted adventure, didn’t she? This seemed to be the start of a grand new one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm running a lovely fever and awaiting test results... bleah.


	4. Skin Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The social problems of 1932 are a cultural shock to the fairies as they dump Roland in a random city.

It was easy to forget he had passengers. Bog loved driving fast cars and loud motorcycles when he visited in the past. The family had two large sedans and several motorcycles that they shared, along with horses. He wasn’t going nearly as fast as the car could go, mindful that he wanted Marianne to enjoy the ride. 

Bog had the way memorized, and soon they turned off the single-lane gravel path to a slightly wider dirt one. “If yer hungry, pretty sure breakfast is in that basket.” He motioned to a wicker picnic basket resting on the floorboard at Marianne’s feet. 

“Keep both hands on that wheel,” snapped Marianne, grabbing his arm and pushing his hand back to the steering wheel. 

“I can take a hand off the wheel,” said Bog with a smile. “It’s safe. I know what I’m doing.” 

“I’m bouncing too much to eat,” Marianne groaned. She sat upright, still gripping Bog’s arm, and turned to look over the seat. “Hungry?” 

“No,” all three fairies replied in unison. 

“When do I get this blindfold off,” Roland spoke up, nodding his head. “And the ropes off my wrists?” 

“When we’re far enough that ye can’t find yer way back,” replied Bog. 

“This is so unfair,” mumbled Roland. “Trapping me in the human world.” 

“You had your choices, Roland,” began Marianne, a growl in her voice. “It didn’t have to end this way. You could have gone on with your life, and you would still have your wings.” 

Marianne shivered, and Bog glanced at her. “Love, there are blankets.” He moved his hand again, indicating a stack of folded blankets next to the basket. 

“I can’t believe you are carrying on this farce,” Roland began talking, and Bog wished they had thought to gag him. “You two in ‘love’. It’s all so fake. You deserve so much better, Marianne. I just had your best interests in mind. How ugly is he right now? Even more unnatural than he was before. The Bog King. A beastly creature that will never be a fairy like us.” 

Bog’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as he attempted to ignore Roland’s words. Responding to him would be foolish. Roland was trying to get at him, and if Bog talked back to him, he gave him what he wanted. 

“Mmm, Marianne, why don’t ye grab a blanket and cuddle up to me to keep me warm.” Bog grinned, nodding his head at the blankets. Marianne kept her hand on his arm, reaching for the top blanket and trying to pull it over her shoulders without letting go of Bog. “I love ye,” he added with an affectionate purr. “My beautiful wildflower.” 

Roland made a retching sound. 

### 

Marrianne began relaxing the longer she was in the car. A glance back at her guards showed they were getting used to it as well. Lincoln and Hubert were looking out the window while Roland sulked. Marianne was pleased to see he looked a little green. 

“This is Highview,” said Bog as they passed a sign that was so full of little round holes it appeared to say Suckview. Bog frowned, glancing at Marianne. 

“What?” Marianne tilted her head at him curiously. 

“Hooligans,” replied Bog. 

“Hooliwhat? Some type of goblin?” Marianne grimaced, wondering what a human-sized goblin liked like if they passed through the fairy circle. 

“People with no respect,” said Bog with a sigh. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Marianne nodded, turning her attention to the trees bordering the road. When they left the house, everything was lush, green, and vibrant. The further away they went, the more sickly and sparse the trees were. 

An unfamiliar sensation filled Marianne, a growing sense of unease. She had never been far from home--never further than the Dark Forest, and even then, it wasn’t far from home. Her back itched, and the irritation grew as she thought about what they were doing. 

No wings. 

She was defenseless. 

No wings. 

No sword. 

Was she even as fast as a human as she was a fairy. Her skin began to crawl, and she shuddered, rubbing her hands over her coat sleeves. How did humans live like this--stuck to the ground. 

“Love?” whispered Bog, turning to look at her. “Ye, okay?” His concern was comforting. 

“Can I get a sword, a dagger, anything I can carry?” she whispered back, laying her head against his shoulder, peering into his warm blue eyes. 

“If it makes ye more comfortable.” Bog smiled at her. “But ye shouldn’t worry. We’re stronger than the average human. Faster too. And ye got me, Link, and Hu. Yer dad wouldn’t stop insisting he send them.” 

“Yeah,” Marianne worried her lower lip, “he wasn’t happy I was coming along.” 

“I’m glad ye did.” Bog leaned over to kiss her on the forehead before turning back to the road, which had transitioned to crunching gravel. 

A few minutes later, they began passing houses that had been built close together. Then they passed bigger buildings. People walked up and down the streets, and there were a few horse drawn carriages—vehicles parked in front of shops. 

Marianne stared into the shop windows curiously. They held the same things she would see at home in their towns and markets. The styles were different, but there were dresses, suits, toys, and food. Delicious smells mixed in with the more foul odors that hung in the air. 

The town was small, and after a few more minutes, they were back on the road with only a scattering of houses within view. Marianne frowned, spotting a bunch of ramshackle buildings set up in a field. The few people she glimpsed were not as nicely dressed as the ones in town, and they looked sad and hungry. 

She didn’t want to stare, but there were children playing among them--barefoot and skinny. They were dirty, dressed in ragged clothing, and it hurt to look at them. Trees replaced the sad scene, and Marianne quietly settled back against Bog, wrapping her arm around his and leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Let’s see how the radio works.” Bog reached out to a little knob on the dashboard and turned it. Broken music filled the car, and Marianne jumped, startled. “This is a radio. People talk over it.”

“Where are the people?” gasped Marianne, staring at the dial in awe.

“Amazing.” Lincoln leaned over the middle of the seat, grinning. “Music coming out of nowhere.”

“They’re in a building somewhere with a big tower that transmits over the air,” said Bog, excited to explain it to them. They stared at him blankly. “It’s coming out of nowhere.” He sighed. “Hungry?”

“I think I can eat now.” Marianne nodded.

“Yeah, my stomach is growling,” added Hubert from the back.

“I’m hungry,” said Roland.

“Nobody asked you,” snapped everyone in unison.

“Well, I am,” Roland grumbled.

###

They ate cold corn cakes with butter and fresh milk, passing around the bottles. Bog ate all the bacon and finished off a bottle of milk by himself. His family knew what he liked but also packed sweet things made out of grain for Marianne and the other two fairies.

“You’re not going to give me anything?” whined Roland. 

“Ye’ll get lunch when we get to Little Rock,” replied Bog. “That’s where we’re leaving you.”

“What’s a Little Rock?” Roland scowled, his voice still holding a whine. “Some sort of tiny little kingdom?”

“It’s a random human town I’m dumping ye off in, so ye can’t find yer way back.” Bog growled as he spoke. “Now shut up. I don’t want to be reminded ye are here.” Every word out of Roland’s mouth grated on Bog. The sooner he got rid of him, the better. Then they could all relax and head to their next destination—New Orleans.

###

As the day progressed, Marianne began relaxing and enjoying the ride. Lincoln and Hubert had relaxed as well and settled in for the ride, taking turns sitting with Roland. They arrived in Little Rock just before noon, and Bog pulled up in front of a little store with a line of people standing at a serving window, ordering food.

Bog picked up his bag and opened it, pulling out a white envelope with an R on it. He set the bag on the seat and turned to look at Roland. “Okay, ye can take the blindfold off and untie Roland.” Bog gestured with the envelope as Hubert untied the blindfold, then the ropes around Roland’s wrists. 

Roland blinked, rubbing his wrists. “You are really dumping me in the middle of nowhere?”

“Would you rather rot in a cell?” Marianne asked sweetly, turning to smile at Roland. “I can arrange that if you really want to go back.”

“Nah, that’d ruin my plans.” Bog smirked at her, waving the envelope in Roland’s direction. “We’re not leaving ye without some resources. There’s twenty dollars in here so ye can start a new life. Now. Get out. We’re on the edge of a city. It’s big enough ye’ll find something to do.”

Hubert and Lincoln got out, and Roland followed, taking the envelope from Bog with a scowl. Roland said nothing, stepping out of the vehicle and slowly walking away. Hubert and Lincoln stood outside the car, one on each side. Bog shook his head, removing a folded map from the bag.

Marianne watched in interest as he unfolded it. “We’re here?” She asked, pointing to a red circle with the word Little Rock on it. Branches ran all over the map, and she realized they were probably roads, so many roads.

“Yes, we’re in Little Rock, and we’re going to New Orleans,” replied Bog, glancing at her. “Just checking which road we’re looking for to go south. We’ll get there tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll be staying with another of my grand nieces and her family. She has a little cafe.” Bog folded the map and laid it on the seat. He reached into his bag and pulled out a slip of paper. “This is a dollar bill.” He handed it to Marianne. “We’re going to buy some soda and get back on the road.”

“Soda?” Marianne ran her fingers over the smooth bill, studying the portrait on the front and the intricate design on the back. ‘It’s made out of cloth?”

“Special paper.” Bog put his bag on the floorboard, pushing it beneath the dash. “Come with me. I don’t want to leave ye alone knowing Roland’s around.”

“Yeah.” Marianne nodded, clutching the paper in her hand. She turned to the door and fiddled with the handle, attempting to figure out how to open it. It wasn’t difficult, but Bog pulled the door open, then Marianne tried to get out and found herself stuck to the seat.

For a moment, she was puzzled, and Bog smiled at her in amusement. “Yer seatbelt.” He motioned to the belt still strapped over her hips.

“Hah,” huffed Marianne, embarrassed at having forgotten to unbuckle the belt. She fiddled with it, then Bog leaned in to push the button and release her.

“Don’t worry. It won’t take ye long to remember everything.” He held out his arm, and once again, Marianne thought about how foreign it was as she took it, gripping fabric and soft flesh instead of armor and leathery skin.

They walked inside the small store, and nobody paid much attention to them. Marianne marveled at how easy it was to walk among humans, even though she still had to keep close to Bog. Her balance was better, but she still tipped forward every few steps if she wasn’t holding onto him. Then there was the constant itching situation in her upper back where her wings should have been. 

Bog’s hand landed between her shoulder blades, as though sensing the unease. She had pushed her back against the seats in the car several times, trying to rub away the prickles and itch. They weren’t inside for long. Bog grabbed four glass bottles with a green tinge, filled with some kind of dark, caramel looking liquid. 

They went to stand in line and passed a display of pocket knives. Bog stopped immediately, and Marianne began picking over them. He selected three in the time it took Marianne to decide on one. Marianne ran her fingers over the bright blue surface, working the fold-out blade curiously. It wasn’t a big knife, barely longer than her hand from wrist to fingertips, but it made her feel better to have some kind of weapon.

Marianne watched curiously as Bog paid for the drinks and pocket knives, taking the dollar from her and pulling a few more out of his pocket. He handed her the coins they received in change, and she rolled them around in her hand, mesmerized by the different colors and designs on them. 

They used coinage at home, but her father’s seal marked the front of their coins, and there was a number on the back. Most of their people bartered with goods and services. Coins were seldom used. Bog handed her the blue pocket knife as they left the store and walked into a mass of people gathering in their path.

“What?” Bog growled deep in his throat, craning his neck over the crowd.

“What is it?” Marianne pocketed her knife and the coins, grabbing the back of Bog’s coat as he pushed through the people. A moment later, she saw the reason for the crowd. Several people stood near their car, shouting at Lincoln and Hubert, who stood in complete silence, side by side.

Bog stepped between them and the people. “Ye got a problem with my men?” He all but snarled, and the small group stepped back, looking at him apprehensively.

“Get in the car.” Marianne gestured to Hubert and Lincoln, then tripped and fell toward the door. Both Hubert and Lincoln moved, rushing to keep her from falling, and when they did, gasps went up in the crowd. Hubert wrapped an arm around Marianne’s waist as Lincoln opened the door. It took less than a minute to get in the car, but outside several people yelled angrily. 

“We’re just passing through.” Bog waited until Hubert and Lincoln were inside before walking around to the driver’s side. “Get back if ye don’t want to get run over.”

“You need to keep your boy in his place,” someone shouted. 

Marianne frowned, looking at Bog questioningly when he slid into his seat and set the drink bottles next to her. Bog didn’t bother putting on his seatbelt, putting the key into the ignition, starting the car, and immediately pulling it back, causing the angry crowd to scatter.

A moment later, they had turned around and were heading back out of town with Bog leaning forward, his jaw clenched and a muscle on his face twitching. Marianne looked back to see Lincoln and Hubert sitting next to each other in the back seat, the middle seat having been retracted back into the floor. The two guards looked calm, but their eyes betrayed how uncomfortable that situation had been.

“What happened?” Marianne asked as Bog sped up.

“We were minding our own business when a kid came up and began asking questions,” started Hubert, gesturing to Lincoln. “Then another kid joined him, and they didn’t like the fact I didn’t reply.”

“They seemed really angry with Hu.” Lincoln shook his head, giving Hubert a sympathetic look. “Said he shouldn’t be there, and when they asked questions, he had to answer.”

Bog shook his head, glancing back at them. “It’s because of the color of your skin, Hu.”

“What?” Hubert looked puzzled.

“It’s stupid.” Bog growled, pulling his seatbelt over his lap. “Marianne, love, seatbelt.”

“Right.” Marianne plopped down in her seat, almost sitting on the bottles. She picked two up and turned back around to offer them to Hubert and Lincoln. “We got you drinks.”

Lincoln grabbed the bottles and handed one to Hubert. “What’s wrong with the color of his skin?”

“Absolutely nothing,” said Bog. “Marianne, there’s a little flat piece of metal in my pocket that’s a bottle opener. Give it to them.” Marianne nodded, reaching into Bog’s pocket as he continued speaking. “Some humans believe that the color of yer skin indicates ye are inferior and not human, Hu.”

Hubert frowned, looking at his hands. “What?”

“It’s stupid,” Bog muttered angrily.

Marianne looked back at her two guards in concern as she handed Lincoln the bottle opener. They were both impressively tall, well-built men and the two youngest of her father’s men. Lincoln had tan skin like her, the typical healthy tan of her people. He had dark brown hair and green eyes.

Hubert was much darker with short, curly black hair and light brown eyes. Only a tenth of her people were as dark as he was, and she was confused. Back home, dark skin was considered stunning and beautiful, but her people could be superficial about wings, not skin. But they weren’t angry about it.

“Seatbelt.” Bog touched Marianne’s shoulder, and she nodded, sliding into the seat and pulling the lap belt over her.

“Maybe we should just go home,” Marianne suggested, realizing such a situation could occur again, and Hubert could be in danger. She didn’t want her guards in a foreign land judged for something as dumb as their skin color.

“No, we’ll be fine.” Bog sighed, glancing at her in concern. “We’re going where it won’t be as bad.”

“For two weeks?” Marianne frowned, picking up one of the coke bottles.

“If ye want to go home early, we can,” said Bog, looking at her. “Why don’t ye open the picnic basket and hand out the sandwiches. I’m hungry.”

Marianne nodded, realizing he was changing the subject. She wasn’t entirely convinced this was a good idea. The map had been easy enough to read, and Marianne had seen they were going far away from home. Still, she trusted him. If Bog felt it was safe, it was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact.. Coca-cola was 5 cents for 70 years. This is because of a couple of lawyers who went to coca-cola and made up a plan that they would sell bottled coke and set a price that they would only charge 5 cents a bottle and Coca-cola would provide the syrup. That is just astounding and also explains the 5c Coca-cola signs that are so prevalent! They had to sell a LOT Of it to make a profit! Isn't that cool? :D
> 
> I did not expect to write about social issues because they tend to be messy and I don't even think Hu is actually 'black'. He just looks close enough for the assumption to be made. Fairies being fairies, their racial makeups are a little different from standard humans. I feel really bad for Hu. To go from a society where he is a respected guard with an earned position to one where he's considered inhuman is a shock and it's a shock to his friends too.
> 
> I did a ton of research into the laws and ways of that time, including Jim Crow laws being in effect and how they were handled in New Orleans and found it was a 'slightly better place', even though things were still awful. Some things were really hard to find, like how people interacted. Since I could not find a lot of what I was looking for, it affects the story in the future, because it's not really about the 'experience', but the observation of the experience.


	5. Travelers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip continues from Little Rock to New Orleans, with a little stop at a campground to mingle among the humans and get a good night's sleep without the threat of Roland lingering over them.

The weather was excellent, and Bog enjoyed driving with Marianne sitting next to him, admiring the scenery as they traveled south. There was little talk following the incident in Little Rock. Hubert wasn’t talkative, to begin with, but Lincoln typically was. Bog would probably have spoken more if they didn’t have the two guards with them. He wasn’t accustomed to guards following him at all times like Marianne.

An hour away from Little Rock, he glanced around for the map. He knew he had left it on the seat, but it wasn’t there. It might have fallen off the seat and was somewhere in the floorboard or underneath them where he couldn’t see it. Not needing it, Bog drove on for another hour before stopping to put gas in the car.

Bog was the only one to get out and scowled, looking beneath the seats. The map was nowhere to be seen. Where had it gone? He searched in his bag, and the back seat as Marianne and her guards watched. Bog grumbled, gathered the empty coke bottles, and went into the little store to purchase another map and four more sodas—orange crushes this time.

Oranges were not available in the fields or forest back home. Bog only knew about them because his family loved making sure they treated him to new things when he stayed with them in the past. The lost map was forgotten as he got back in the car and handed out the bottles. There was nothing on the map that led back to home, just their destinations—Little Rock and his grandniece’s restaurant.

“I want to see ye taste this.” Bog popped the tops off the two sodas in his hands. “It’s orange.”

“It really is orange.” Marianne took the glass bottle and held it under her nose. Her eyebrows rose, and she took a tentative sip. “It tastes like orange!” She laughed, amused by the discovery. “Like sunlight and summer.” Bog smiled, watching her take a bigger drink, then burp loudly. 

“So ladylike.” Bog chuckled, drinking from his bottle. The fairies had enjoyed the cokes with the same reactions, burping, then laughing. 

“You gave it to me.” Marianne held the bottle up to the sunlight, peering at it with a massive smile spread over her face, her cheeks lit up with a faint flush of red. “I like this.”

“Wait until you taste a real orange,” said Bog turning on the car. “I’ll be sure to look for some.”

“A real orange?” Marianne blinked at the statement, trying to remember if she had learned about what an orange was beyond a color at some point.

“It’s a fruit.” Bog turned his attention to the road, tipping the bottle to enjoy the liquid sunshine. As fun as it had been to learn about these things when he was a teenager, it was even more fun to share them with Marianne.

###

They drove for hours and didn’t stop until the sun began going down. Bog filled the gas tank, then went into a diner alone to pick up food for their dinner. They continued on their way to a campsite just outside of town and ended up in a tent cabin. Marianne made a face as she walked inside behind Bog. There were three beds and a big shelf to put their things on if they wanted, and that was it. 

A picnic table sat outside where Lincoln and Hubert laid out the cardboard boxes containing their dinner. “It’ll do for tonight,” said Bog, turning to Marianne and sliding his arms around her. “Tomorrow night, we’ll sleep in a nice bedroom, just you and me.”

“As long as I’m with you.” Marianne stepped into the embrace, leaning her head against his chest with a sigh. “I love you so much.” He held her, leaning over to kiss her forehead, then he met her lips, and the thoughts of how different he looked vanished. It was the same, that delightful jolt of electricity and warmth.

They kissed for a few minutes, then went outside to join Lincoln and Hubert for dinner. The two guards stood near the table, the smell of roasted meat thick in the air around them. There were other groups of people nearby, laughing and talking as they enjoyed their evening meal.

“This is chicken,” said Bog, motioning to a box full of golden-skinned pieces of meat. “And these are baked potatoes.” He moved around the table, pointing at a box containing four brown lumps. “Rolls, a black bottom pie, and lemonade.” Bog motioned to four rectangular shaped bottles last. 

The food smelled delicious, even if it was all completely foreign. The only familiar things were the rolls. They did grow potatoes, but they were never served like this for obvious reasons. The pie was especially intriguing. It was in a pie tin and entirely white.

“Try everything.” Bog picked up a blue enamel plate and motioned for Marianne to follow him. She picked up a plate and walked after Bog, eying the food warily. “Here’s butter for the potato.” Bog scooted a small container filled with a creamy looking white substance toward her. “Salt and pepper is good on it.” Marianne bypassed the butter, for now, picking up the more familiar potato to add to her plate.

A few minutes later, they sat down to enjoy their food, the guards standing at opposite ends of the table, their backs to them. “Link, Hu, sit down and eat,” Marianne ordered, trying a small bite of the chicken. “From here on, just enjoy yourselves, okay?”

“We’re still your guards,” huffed Hu.

“With a tiny little pocket knife?” Bog chuckled, his mouth full of chicken. Both Hubert and Lincoln frowned at him. “Enjoy dinner.”

Music rose from several different directions--then people began singing. Hubert and Lincoln grumbled but grabbed plates and began filling them. Marianne glanced at Bog, who had cut open his potato and was maneuvering a massive chunk of butter inside. Little wisps of steam rose as the butter melted.

“What does that taste like?” Marianne inquired, motioning to the butter.

Bog grinned, using the side of his fork to cut off a small piece. He held it out to her, and Marianne licked the fork, then blinked in surprise at the rich flavor as it melted in her mouth. She licked her lips and eyed the butter container that was now on the opposite side of the table. Lincoln and Hubert were mimicking Bog and had cut open their potatoes and were working on the butter.

“Good, isn’t it?” Bog picked up a roll. “Put it in the roll and on the potato.”

Lincoln brought the butter container to Marianne, and she went to work, copying Bog. “What plant makes butter?” she asked, generously slathering her roll and taking a bite. “We need to grow this.”

“All plants make butter,” said Bog with a playful grin, “but ye need milk from an animal that eats it to make it.”

“Oh!” Marianne rolled her eyes. “Now, I remember. There are stories about humans leaving butter out for fairies! It’s just not done here. I didn’t realize this was what it was.”

“Yeah, this and fresh milk, mead, food of all kinds, but the best,” Bog took a bite of his potato, “is butter.”

Marianne nodded, returning to her food, finding it all good, albeit different. The textures were not the same, even if the flavors of the bread and potato were. The lemonade was delicious, even better than the sodas they had earlier. It was sweet, with just the right amount of tartness. Then, there was the pie. Bog served her a slice, and the smell was divine, tinged with the aroma of some kind of alcohol.

She enjoyed dinner, but by the time they finished, she spotted half a dozen small children wandering through the campground. They were going from tent to tent, asking for food, and Marianne watched them get a few bites here and there and get chased away from several others. Five of the kids eventually approached their table, hungry eyes focusing on what they were eating.

“Bog,” whispered Marianne, not sure what to do. She wanted to give them all the leftovers but hesitated. She didn’t know a lot about humans and how they might react.

“Yeah.” Bog nodded, motioning to the boxes holding their leftovers. “Just give them the boxes and the rest of the pie if ye don’t want any more. Link? Hu?”

“I’m full.” Link and Hu replied in unison, then stood with Marianne as she picked up the box of chicken. They gathered the other boxes and carried them to the children, who stood at the edge of their campsite, bouncing up and down eagerly as they realized they were getting something. 

Marianne felt awful, noting how thin and dirty they were. They wore tattered clothing, and all were barefoot. The children were young, five to ten years of age, and trying to keep quiet. They glanced around, looking at the other kids nearby. They probably didn’t have enough for all of them, so Marianne crouched to offer the chicken, and the kids rushed in, grabbing a piece in grubby hands, and immediately began eating.

Most of them left with just the chicken, but the bigger ones grabbed a roll, and one took the pie tin. Within minutes, they were gone, vanishing off to some remote part of the campground. Marianne frowned, realizing they probably left to avoid anyone stealing their food.

Why was the human world like this?

Marianne mused over it as she looked into the empty box and the smudged handprints on the edges. Children in her kingdom would never end up like this. There was always someone who would take care of them. Nobody went hungry. 

“I was told things are tough for humans right now,” said Bog, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s no excuse, but they are having problems growing food. There’s not enough for everyone.”

“We just had a full meal with more leftovers than what we ate.” Marianne frowned, watching other children wandering nearby. “How is there not enough?”

“They need money to buy it,” replied Bog. “This has been going on for years. They couldn’t earn money, and they couldn’t give it to farmers, and then the farmers couldn’t afford to run their farms and produce food, and there’s a drought.”

“We’re not having those problems,” muttered Marianne, leaning back against her husband.

“Yes, because ye have me.” Bog slid his arms around her, leaning his chin on her head and folding his arms over her chest. “We are fine because my presence makes everything in my kingdom and surrounding it flourish.”

“You need to explain your magic to me someday,” grumbled Marianne, placing her hands on his arms.

“It’s not magic--it’s just what I am.” Bog squeezed her gently. “It’s been a long day. Let’s go for a little walk to stretch our legs, then go to bed. I want to get up early and be on our way.”

“Is it safe for you to be away?” Marianne tilted her head aside, and Bog slid down to press his lips to her neck.

“Only a couple of weeks.” Bog nipped at her neck playfully, and Marianne laughed, trying to get away. He let go, and she laughed, tossing the empty cardboard box into a large barrel with Trash painted on it.

“Is there somewhere to clean up? My hands are all greasy.” Marianne wriggled her fingers at Bog.

“I’ll lick them clean,” he purred, giving her a half-lidded gaze.

“You’re going to make Link and Hu uncomfortable,” whispered Marianne with a grin.

“Washrooms are a little bit that way.” Bog chuckled and turned, motioning to a gravel path. “Let’s go.”

###

Bog stood outside the washroom, flinging his hands to rid them of the still damp feeling. There wasn’t anything to dry them off on, and it was only a minor bother. Marianne was still in the women’s side, which seemed to have a lot more women and children making use of it. He hoped she was okay in there alone.

The trip wasn’t going how he wanted it. His family had warned him to be careful and not draw attention to himself. Hubert was a little bit of a problem, but it wouldn’t be that bad once they reached New Orleans and his sister’s place. Bog did not relish the thought of discussing how the world was outside of theirs.

Not once while he was planning the trip, to show Marianne something she had never seen before, had he considered how much of a culture shock it might be. Bog’s eyes were only set on the good things. His family had warned him of what he might see along the way, but his imagination did not go to the extremes he had witnessed.

Why couldn’t people just leave each other alone?

Hubert and Lincoln had been minding their own business, not bothering anyone, and if he hadn’t returned quickly, who knows what would have happened to the two of them. The thought was disturbing. Moving around in the human world was an opportunity to be a commoner, something they couldn’t do in their kingdoms. That was a part of the experience Bog wanted to share with Marianne, but it brought with it an additional danger that he hadn’t realized until just now.

Still, Bog was stubbornly committed to the trip. It was just two weeks, then they would return home, back to their lives as royals, the King and Queen of the Dark Forest. They just had to blend in with the humans, and they would, once they reached New Orleans.

“Bog?” Marianne wiped her hands on her hips, standing in front of him. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” He shook his head and smiled at her. “All cleaned up?”

“Yeah, let’s go for that walk you promised me.” Marianne slid a hand into his, squeezing gently. “Where are we going again, and what are we doing there?”

“New Orleans.” Bog grinned as they began walking down the path leading to another part of the campground. “It’s a big city, and my grand niece has a cafe there. You’ll like her. She likes to travel and has two kids. We’re going to explore the city and see how the people live.”

Marianne gave a great sigh, glancing around to make sure there was nobody around to see her. “Bog, I don’t like what I’ve seen so far. It’s all so depressing.”

“It will be better in New Orleans,” said Bog stubbornly. “Ye’ll see.”

“But you haven’t been there, have you?” Marianne frowned at him.

“No, but Maude says it’s better, and I believe her. She wouldn’t live there if she didn’t feel it was a good place.” Bog began explaining. “Maude’s father was colored. He passed away when she was a child. I never met him but was told he was a good man. Maude and I have a lot in common.”

“And she knows?” Marianne gestured to Bog.

“Yes, she does, but her husband and children don’t.” Bog chuckled, dropping his arm around Marianne’s shoulders. “Let’s enjoy the night and the music.”

“I miss home,” muttered Marianne leaning against him as they walked. “But I’ll give this a chance.”

“That’s all that I ask.” Bog smiled, looking up at the star-studded sky spreading above. The stars were the same, fairy or human, and he had his beloved by his side. There was nothing more he desired at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I researched what foods were available and common in 1932 on the road. It was a difficult thing to really look into. There were a lot of fast food places available that still exist today, but I opted for a diner meal of fried chicken, potatoes, rolls, and black bottom pie. Oh and lemonade. :D I've never had black bottom pie, but it sounds delicious.  
> For those of you who are paying attention to the year: Why yes, we are in the year before the end of Prohibition. You could still buy alcohol for cooking. Actually, the only things you can't really do is brew it, sell it, or transport it. There was no actual law against drinking or owning it. I LEARNED SOMETHING! (Okay, relearned it. Pretty sure this was in history class.)   
> Thank you for reading and leaving a comment would be nice! I like knowing when something I've written is enjoyed.


	6. Driving Lessons For Fairies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog is more careful with Marianne and her guards, attempting to avoid anymore altercations with humans. Unfortunately, when they reach their destination, Marianne causes a scene.

Sleeping in the tent cabin was far more rustic than Marianne was accustomed to and lacked the familiar smells she had grown used to over the last few months with Bog, but the bed was comfortable enough. It was little more than a mat with sheets and a thin blanket, but she had her husband, and he was as warm as usual, even if he didn’t smell quite the same.

Marianne snuggled up into his arms, music coming through the thin walls. It was strange music, made by instruments she had never heard before. And the humans sang to their music, strange songs with bizarre melodies. Despite what was going on in their world, they seemed happy.

Bog snored lightly, muttering something in his sleep. Maybe this wouldn’t be that bad. She had promised to give it a chance. Marianne closed her eyes, resting her head against Bog’s chest, wrinkling her nose as hair tickled her face. As a human, he had so much hair. Thankfully, the hair on his chest wasn’t disturbingly thick. It was just there and so strange, like the other small changes.

She yawned and smiled, kissing Bog’s chest. His still large hands wrapped around her, holding her securely, keeping her close. “I love you,” whispered Marianne feeling the haze of sleep overcoming her. 

###

The next morning they were up early and on the road before the sun rose. They stopped at the first town they came to for breakfast, with Bog leaving everyone in the car—to keep them out of trouble. He even said it that way, much to Marianne’s annoyance. She wanted to go inside, but then Bog told her later in the day, he would teach her how to drive.

After a full day in the car, seeing how much Bog enjoyed driving, she agreed. Bog returned with a box full of strange pastries with holes in the middle he called donuts and four glass quarts of milk. The donuts were delicious and warm. They went well with the fresh cold milk, and Marianne ate three of them, savoring the sugary coating. Baked goods were so familiar yet so different in the human world. 

The road was smoother than most of the roads they had been on, and a couple of hours after they left, Bog pulled over into a flat field of dirt and had Marianne take his place. She grabbed the steering wheel and reached for the key. 

“Not yet.” Bog laughed, grabbing her hand before she could turn the car back on. “Ye don’t just turn it on and go.”

“But you do!” Marianne fussed, leaning her head on the steering wheel.

“No, I don’t. Look down.” Bog pointed to the floorboard. “Ye step on those to run the car. The left one is the brake. That stops the car. The one next to it is the gas. It makes the car go. The third one to the right is the clutch.”

Marianne screwed her face up at Bog, impatient to begin. He pointed to the long rod with a knob on the end next to the steering wheel. “This is the gear shift. Under no circumstances do ye step on the gas and move this.”

“What does it do?” Marianne eyed the rod, getting annoyed at how much she would have to remember, but she wanted to drive.

“It clicks to show where ye are, but ye pull it all the way back to go in reverse.” Bog explained. “The most forward position is for going slow and up hills. It gives ye more power, but the center position is where ye will be most of the time. Ye always start the car and stop it in the forward position, okay?”

“Great! Let’s do this!” Marianne gripped the steering wheel in both hands, grinning at Bog. He stepped back and put his hands on his hips.

“Maybe a little less enthusiastic? I don’t want to risk ye wrecking our car.” 

“Can we get out?” Lincoln asked nervously.

“Maybe watch from here?” added Hubert, forcing a smile.

“If ye get out, she’s just going to run over ye.” Bog laughed and swung a hand at Marianne’s seatbelt. “Buckle in. I’ll help ye feel how to get it in the right gear. Do not start the car until the seatbelt is buckled.” Bog reached under her seat and pulled on a lever to slide the front seat closer to the pedals.

Marianne rolled her eyes as he closed the door, then walked around the car and slid into the seat next to her. “Okay, turn on the car, and don’t put your feet on the pedals.” Eager to get going, she turned the key and felt a surge of excitement as the engine roared to life. “Now put yer hand on the gearshift.” Marianne did as she was told, and Bog placed his hand on hers. “Put yer left foot on the brake, the one on the far left and yer right foot on the clutch as far it’ll go, then push the shifter all the way forward.

“How long did it take you to learn how to drive?” The shifter slid forward and clicked into place.

“Not too long. It’s not difficult.” Bog removed his hand. “Take yer foot off the brake and gently put yer right foot on the gas.”

Marianne did her best to use a light touch, but it was still too firm as the car jolted forward. She yelped and leaned forward over the wheel, gripping it like her life depended on it. 

“Again.” Bog chuckled, giving her a lopsided grin. She frowned at him and put her foot on the gas. The car still jolted, but not as severely. “Just drive in circles until ye get used to it.”

Marianne drove around in the field for over half an hour. Bog had her repeatedly changing gears, stopping, starting, and reversing. Then Lincoln and Hubert took turns. They wasted a considerable amount of time, but Bog explained it was a good idea for all of them to get behind the wheel, just in case.

By the time they got back on the road, it was almost noon, and once again, they were on the road, stopping at the next town to pick up sandwiches and sodas. After the busy morning and given the time of day after a good meal, Hubert laid down in the backseat, and Lincoln laid down on folded blankets on the floorboard to take a nap. Marianne leaned against Bog and closed her eyes. 

She knew Bog was keeping them safe by making them stay in the car when they stopped. She also knew he was doing his best not to offend Hubert by not making him stay alone. That was the only reason she didn’t push too hard to get out, even though she wanted to see inside the stores. Hopefully, this wouldn’t be as much of a problem when they reached New Orleans.

###

Bog breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the signs for New Orleans. Soon, the road trip would be over. He pulled over at a rest stop and got the Traveler’s notebook out to read the directions to Maude’s Place. The leather-bound set of books was a gift from his father, one of many items inside the trailer he stored. Bog took a moment to run his fingers over the embossed cover. It held the image of his staff’s head on it, decorated in gold, and had his name engraved in the cover.

“I’m going to give this to ye to read the directions,” said Bog, skimming the detailed page he had filled out. “So keep track of where we are.” He handed the book to Marianne, and she leaned her back against his shoulder, looking it over.

They worked well together. Bog smiled as he got back on the road. And he couldn’t imagine being happier than he was right now. Well, he could, but there was no rush down that avenue. Having Marianne finally in his life and being a participant and not just a spectator in her life had done so much for him—and her.

Over the months, they had settled more and more into a routine, knowing each other’s patterns. The winter months would always be easier, a time to enjoy time with his family. That was how it had always been, and thoughts of his father slipped into his mind. Even after all these years, he still missed him and the fact that his own children would never know how great Caderyn was beyond what he would tell them. Bog could only hope his children would look up to him with half the respect.

It only took half an hour to navigate the outskirts of New Orleans. They went around it, not through it, which was a relief to Bog. Driving on busy, car-filled streets made him anxious. There were people everywhere, going about their business, and more disturbingly, there were huge lines of bedraggled looking people lined up in front of storefronts reading Soup Kitchen that weren’t even open yet for dinner.

Maude’s place wasn’t what he expected. Bog thought he was looking for a tiny cafe, not a huge lot with a forward-facing restaurant. The building had a second floor that appeared to be rooms for rent. He followed the instructions and pulled in past the restaurant and into the delivery driveway, which led to a private driveway.

There was a house tucked away behind the restaurant, a house with a massive courtyard. Part of the yard near the restaurant held picnic tables, then there was a grassy expanse, and the other side of the yard held more picnic tables. There was a second restaurant mirroring the first, and after a moment, Bog realized why. One side held a sign for White’s Only, and the other said Colored Only.

Bog hated those signs.

He pulled the car to an open garage door where half a dozen men were talking, white and black. They were working on a car together, and one of them walked up, running an already grime-covered red rag over his oily hands. “Maude’s expecting you.” He said after Bog leaned out of his window. “Just park over there.” He motioned to a closed garage door.

The house would have been considered a mansion, pristine white with balconies and columns wrapping around it. It was far showier than any of the homes around the forest. At least a dozen rocking chairs that Bog could see, and a few people were sitting in them, talking.

“Is this where we’re staying?” Marianne asked as she peered out of the windshield at the house. 

“Yes.” Bog turned to her with a smile. “Okay, everyone out. I’m sure Maude’s not far away. She said not to bother knocking. Someone will meet us at the entry.”

###

Lincoln and Hubert rushed ahead, grateful for something to do as they opened the doors for Bog and Marianne, and they walked into a massive entry that Bog felt he could have fit all of Clara’s house. The house was just as impressive on the inside as the outside. Paintings lined the walls, and everything was clean and tidy, smelling of fresh lavender. 

“Can I help you?” a young man inquired, looking up for a tiny desk to one side of the entry.

“I’m Bog King, here for Maude,” replied Bog, examining the lighting above them with interest. A twining work of art with tiny amber teardrops hung overhead.

“Oh! Her uncle!” The man rose quickly with a smile. “I’m Walter. Maude said to bring you to her parlor. This way.” Walter motioned to the door. Bog nodded and followed as Marianne slid her arm around his. Hubert and Lincoln walked behind them, side by side.

Bog admired the house as they passed by a large open ballroom. The room had partitions set up, dividing it into what appeared to be classrooms. It seemed that his grand-niece was running a school inside her home. The classes were mixed race, with children sitting on cushions, each holding a wood-framed slate and a piece of chalk. A teacher stood at a blackboard, instructing them in their writing. They were practicing cursive letters.

The classroom was a more fitting representation of the Maude he knew. She was a very caring and warm person who liked to help people. They entered a large room filled with comfortable chairs and couches. The walls were made of panels painted white and white curtains with gold accents hung from a pair of doors that led out onto a porch. A garden was visible on the other side with blooming flowers.

Bog crossed the room to look out the doors, and Marianne went with him. “I didn’t expect her home to be this big.”

“It’s pretty,” Marianne complimented, peering through the etched glass. She hadn’t been that talkative during the trip, and Bog knew why. Hopefully, she would warm up to his family quickly. It had taken Bog weeks to be comfortable around them. “I like those dark purple flowers. I wonder what they are.”

“Lousiana irises,” a reply came from the doorway behind them. Bog turned to see Maude standing in the doorway. She came inside in a simple yellow dress with ruffled shoulders with a skirt that stopped just below her knees. Tiny pink blossoms decorated the fabric. Her short black hair was styled in neat waves and her blue eyes, set into a finely featured face, gleamed warmly. Her skin was a lovely shade of light caramel, and the only thing about her other than her full lips that hinted at her true ancestry.

“Maude,” Bog greeted her with a smile, “I would like to introduce ye to my wife, Marianne. Marianne, this is my grand-niece Maude.”

“Pleased to meet you, Marianne.” Maude crossed the room to give a customary greeting, hugging Marianne first, then turning to Bog and embracing him as well. “It’s been over five years. Did you somehow get taller?”

“A little.” Bog shrugged. “Where’s yer husband and the kids?”

“Coming,“ replied Maude. “We’re going out for a good time tonight! Do you know what day it is?”

“February 9th?” Bog tilted his head at Maude, trying to figure out what was possibly special about the day.

“It’s a big party, and we’re going to watch a parade with the kids and eat parade food,” said Maude, glancing at Marianne. “Lots of sugary sweet foods. Bog told me you enjoy that.”

“Just a little.” Marianne’s face scrunched up as she said it, her smile lighting up the room.

The sound of heavy footsteps and the clatter of smaller ones sounded on the wood floor down the hall. “I brought Lemonade.” A charming looking young man with pale skin and blond hair entered the room holding a tray. He stopped in the doorway, staring at Marianne.

Bog wasn’t sure what to make of the strange look on Lucien’s face, his pale blue eyes almost seeming to darken as his face went white. “This is—” Bog shook it off and began introducing him to Marianne but didn’t get his name out.

“Lucien!” Marianne screamed, moving so fast, she was almost a blur. She headed for Maude’s husband--her right hand pulled back into a tight fist. He didn’t have a moment to react as she punched him full in the face, sending him crashing back against the door frame, the tray falling from his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vacation week and I'm running a bit behind! Hehehe.. this chapter took some work. :D :D Comments are lovely!


	7. Reconnection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marianne is not pleased with who Bog's niece is married to, not one bit.  
> However... she'll get over it.

Shards of glass, ice, lemons, and water covered the floor in front of the door. Bog, Maude, Lincoln, and Hubert stared, their jaws agape as Lucien attempted to fend Marianne off of him. He leaned against the door frame, grabbing for her arms as she hit him repeatedly in the chest.

“Marianne!” Bog charged forward, completely confused about what was going on. She didn’t act like she heard him as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her away from Lucien.

“Ow.” Lucien rubbed a hand over his chest, looking at Marianne, one eye closed and a grimace on his face. “I missed you too?” He gave her a plaintive look. 

“What is going on?” hissed Bog, giving his niece an apologetic glance. She looked horrified. “You know Lucien?” Maude walked gingerly around the pieces of glass, waving her hands at her kids to make them back further away from the door.

“He was my big brother, the crown prince!” snarled Marianne, struggling to get free.

“You have a brother?” Bog asked incredulously.

“Had a brother,” replied Marianne, her tone so angry it sent a chill up Bog’s back. He had heard a similar tone directed at him when she had wanted to kill him. But this held an even greater level of threat. She really hated Lucien. “I disowned him,” she added in a hiss.

“Well, ye can’t do that because he’s married to my grand-niece, and therefore he’s still yer family, like it or not,” growled Bog, irritated by her anger at someone he considered family.

“We are leaving now!” Marianne continued squirming, and Bog held her fast.

“No, we are not,” he argued. “Maybe ye need to work out whatever it is that’s between ye two. I’ve known Lucien for five years, and I can’t imagine what he did to make ye so mad at him.”

“Well,” Lucien grimaced, rubbing the rapidly growing spot of red on his face.

“You’re a prince?” Maude whispered incredulously. “Wait, if you’re Marianne’s brother, you’re a fairy too?”

Lucien frowned, glancing from Maude to his fuming sister. “What do you mean a fairy too?”

“Yes, yes, we’re all fairies.” Bog whispered, trying to keep the kids from hearing. He rolled his eyes, annoyed with the direction of the conversation.

“You’re a fairy?” Maude and Lucien said to each other, then yelled, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Oh wow, am I a fairy princess?” A small voice reminded the adults that their children were standing in the door--a little girl and a little boy. Each of them held a squirming puppy in their arms.

“No!” Bog shouted louder than he intended. He grimaced and lowered his voice, “We are all just pretending. Haha, right, the adults are playing a game.”

“We want to play!” The boy laughed. “I’m a prince! But I don’t want to be a fairy! I want to be a knight! A prince knight!”

Marianne relaxed suddenly, sinking against Bog as though the fight had gone out of her. “This is why you left?”

Lucien nodded instead of speaking, turning to his kids. “Aunt Marianne didn’t hurt me.” He stepped through the door, stopping by the kids. “Marianne, this is Maria and William. Now, if you’re done being mad at me, we should probably go to a room that isn’t filled with broken glass and talk.”

Bog dropped his arms, laying one hand on Marianne’s shoulder to squeeze gently. “I had no idea.”

“We don’t talk about him. He left without saying goodbye.” Marianne growled, glaring at her brother.

“Oh, that’s a severe grudge to hold,” muttered Bog as they began walking around the glass.

Ahead of them, Maude punched Lucien in the arm, and he flinched aside. “Why didn’t you tell me!” she hissed.

“It wasn’t important,” replied Lucien.

“Not important?” Maude huffed next to him.

Bog felt a little bad for the situation he had inadvertently caused. How could he have known? If he had met with Lucien recently, he would have seen it immediately and put the pieces together. Lucien was the spitting image of his father in his face and build, but his hair was the same as Dawn’s, wild and blond. His eyes were the same gentle, pale blue. His mannerisms, when talking, were even the same.

Marianne walked stiffly next to him, refusing to hold his arm. He could almost feel the heat coming off her and hoped she wouldn’t want to leave. In the next few minutes, he had to come up with something or hope that Marianne’s anger cooled. He had never seen her as angry as she was right now.

###

Lucien.

Marianne burned with anger, resentment, joy, and sorrow. The flood of mixed emotions was so intense, she hadn’t held back, and she didn’t regret it one bit. He had to know exactly what he had done all those years ago. She had loved her big brother and thought he loved her, but then he left, and there was only a note to their parents stating that he wanted a different life. Lucien never wanted to be king.

All the pain and tears came back. Marianne was ten when Lucien left, and for a brief moment, she was that same little girl who looked up to her brother like he could do no wrong. But he did. He broke her heart when he was there one day and gone the next. She had hated him after a month passed, and he didn’t return home. Everything that reminded her of Lucian had been destroyed or thrown into a trunk in her closet—out of sight and out of mind. She had even managed to forget about him in recent years like he had never existed. Yes, there were portraits, but she avoided looking at them out of habit.

It only took a few minutes to realize his reasons for leaving. Their father would have forbidden him from marrying a human, even though she was a fairy and, technically, royalty, a princess by birthright. Only, Lucien didn’t know that at the time. He abdicated his crown to her and chose Maude over his family. He rejected them, and she burned with that knowledge, that he left all of them, including her.

“Marianne.” Bog touched her arm, and she pulled away, the additional notion popping into her head that Bog had known her brother and spent time with him, thinking he was a human.

“Not right now, Bog,” she said, unable to look at him.

They walked into a narrow hall, then into another sitting room with doors leading out onto a private, vine-covered porch. Lincoln and Hubert stopped outside the door, taking their positions.

“This is where you will be staying,” said Lucien, turning and giving them a nervous smile. “There are two bedrooms, one for you and one for your guards.” He gestured to them, and his children rocked back and forth next to him. Maude stood by him, her eyes locked on Marianne. “And Marianne, I’ll warn you now. If you try that again, I swear I will throw you on the ground and sit on you, like when we were kids.”

Marianne grimaced and nodded. “Can we talk alone?”

“No,” Bog snapped, “Lucien is my friend, and I want to hear what happened.”

“Bog,” Marianne frowned at him, “he’s my brother.”

“He’s family,” growled Bog.

“Do you all have to be so hostile?” Maude sighed, motioning to her kids, who seemed more entertained than upset. “There are children here.”

“Are those the puppies?” Bog tilted his head and smiled at the children.

“Yes. I had them imported from Wales. Special bloodline.” Maude turned to her children. “Why don’t you take them to Marianne.”

“What?” Marianne’s attention fell on the little animals as the kids ran up to her and held them out. She had no choice but to take them, gripping one in each arm as they squirmed and attempted to lick her face and hands. “What?” She was stuck in a crouch, looking up at her husband in surprise.

“Congrats, you have pets.” Bog gave her a smug smile, and she glowered at him. “Technically, the boy is Mum’s, but these are ours.”

“You’re so lucky!” Maria giggled, reaching out to pet one of the puppies.

“When can we have a puppy?” whined William, giving his mother and father a plaintive look.

Maude shook her head, then smiled at the children. “Why don’t you go and play. We need to talk to your aunt and uncle. I’m sure everything will be okay afterward.”

Bog took the larger of the puppies from Marianne and cradled it in his arms as the children reluctantly left the room. Maude followed them and closed the door, then turned back and hissed, “I can’t believe you all! Acting like children! Our kids act better than that!”

Marianne frowned, half her attention on holding the terrifying little animal in her hands. It was a completely foreign experience, and it kept licking her hand and nipping at her fingers. “I’m sorry,” she said with a sigh. “I never thought I’d see him again.”

“I’m sorry too, Marianne,” said Lucian.

“I wasn’t apologizing to you.” Marianne turned to her brother, her jaw clenched, a muscle twitching at the corner of her mouth.

“Well, I am still sorry, okay? Why can’t you be reasonable?” Lucian rolled his eyes, stretching his arms out in exasperation. 

Marianne held out the puppy to Bog, who gave her a questioning look. Maude took the puppy from Marianne and frowned. “I would prefer that you let us talk alone,” Marianne said, shaking her head. “This is between my brother and me.”

“Family,” reiterated Bog.

“I know. I know, but can I punch him again?” Marianne lifted her fist, glancing over her shoulder at Lucian, who rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Go ahead.” Lucien held his arms out. “As hard as you want. I deserve it. I know I do. But I didn’t have a choice.”

Marianne glowered at him, advancing with her hands clenched into fists at her side. He stood there, looking at her with the same eyes her sister had, the same eyes their mother had, sympathetic, warm, and caring.

And she couldn’t do it.

He was the same brother she had adored and loved as a child, and he was here again, in her life. Marianne stopped in front of him, glaring at him as her eyes burned, and she fought the tears. Then she just couldn’t and leaned toward him with a sob. Lucien caught her and cradled her close, leaning his head against hers.

“I am so sorry, Marianne. I never wanted to hurt you,” whispered Lucien. “It was the only way I could be who I wanted to be. You know what Mom and Dad expected, and you were more suited to be a queen than I ever was to be a king.” Bog made a grunting sound, then an annoyed ooph. The door opened, then closed, and they were alone.

“You could have come and visited us,” muttered Marianne, wrapping her arms around her brother. “Why did you have to leave us behind? Dawn doesn’t even remember you, and she missed out on so much. You were really never going to come back?”

“I had to leave that life behind, entirely.” Lucien drew back to look at Marianne, eye to eye. He smiled, reaching out to brush the hair from her eyes, then he wiped away her tears. “You grew up into a beautiful woman, Marianne. How in the world did you end up with Bog? He’s hated even the mention of love for as long as I’ve known him.”

“I’m aware.” Marianne managed a smile. “He’s changed.”

“And still very much the same.” Lucien laughed. “Uhm, are we good? Now that I know they’re fairies too, it changes things, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, not only are they fairies, but you’re a king whether you want it or not.” Marianne sniffled. She still hurt but pushed it aside over the fact Lucien was here, alive and well, with a family--a family that was also hers. “I’m still mad at you.” She admitted.

“But you’re smiling.” Lucien grinned. “So I will take what I can get. I am so glad to see you, now we have some fun planned for tonight, and I expect you to enjoy yourself. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

Marianne nodded, hugging her brother tight, for a moment remembering what it was the last time she hugged him when he was the only one who understood her. She understood where he was coming from, but it still hurt. That pain wasn’t something she would get over immediately. His appearance had ripped open a long-closed wound, and now it needed to heal properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Among my favorite things in this chapter (and yes, this will be added in my rewrite, which is getting more and more different the further we go along) is the fact that the crown prince ran off with a random human girl, who just happens to be a princess, and by Dragonfae rules... they become kings and queens after getting married. So he's a king even faster. :D Hehehehe....
> 
> Then there's Maude getting mad at Lucien for hiding the fact that he's a fairy from her, when she hid the fact she's a fairy from him. :D
> 
> Then... the kids... hahahaha.. this mental image is great.
> 
> Also, Bog has figured out how to diffuse Marianne--hand her a puppy or a baby. :D


	8. Hidden in the Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marianne and Lucien having somewhat made peace, the family prepares for participating in a massive party--Mardi Gras.

Bog scratched the panting puppy behind her ears, standing by Maude outside the door with Hubert and Lincoln after she forcibly grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. Bog scowled, realizing the two guards now knew the family secret. They stood facing the opposite wall, not acknowledging what they had heard.

“I probably should have suspected.” Maude ran a hand through her hair and gave a little laugh. “He did show up out of nowhere. I knew everyone in town, but not him or his family.”

“I never asked how ye met,” said Bog with a shrug. “I assumed, but I don’t think I would have known at the time either. I didn’t care much about the other fairies beyond them being a nuisance.”

“Guess I don’t have much of a right to be mad at him for not telling me when I didn’t tell him either?” Maude glanced at Bog.

“Ye do realize, yer older than me, right? So don’t come to me for advice about things like that.” Bog grunted in amusement. “Maude, ye followed the rules. Wasn’t yer fault.”

“If I had told him, then he would have told me,” groaned Maude, “and this would not have happened at all.”

“Yeah, but it did, and ye can’t go back and change it.” Bog looked down the hall. “Ye have a nice place here, Maude. I was surprised.”

“Lucien is a financial genius.” Maude grinned at Bog proudly. “Literally, a genius with money. He’s an accountant for most of the businesses around us. My place isn’t about making a fortune--it’s about helping those in need.” She laughed, her eyes dancing merrily. “I’m sure you saw the kids downstairs? I pay them two quarters to come to school and learn. They get three meals, and if they need it, a place to sleep.”

“They don’t have parents?” Bog focused on Maude as the puppy nibbled on his fingers and growled.

“Half of them don’t.” Maude shook her head sadly. “The other half, their parents work all the time, and the kids would have to work too. I make sure they have clean, good clothes, and shoes too.”

Bog nodded in thought and went silent for a few minutes, then he turned to Maude inquiring, “Why do ye stay here? Ye got better options.”

“I know this isn’t your world,” said Maude with a sigh. “It’s home, and we should use what we have to help others less fortunate. This world needs us right now.”

“I don’t like what I’ve seen,” muttered Bog, looking away.

“Oh, I’ll make sure you see the better things in life tonight!” Maude laughed, then glanced at the guards. “Today is a day where everyone is equal.”

“Not sure how that works,” Bog said with a doubtful grunt. The door creaked open, putting an end to their conversation. Marianne stepped out as Lucien held the door for her. “Everything okay, love?”

“As good as can be expected.” Marianne nodded, her lips pressed into a thin smile. 

“We’re good.” Lucien walked past her to put an arm around Maude’s shoulders. “Why don’t you rest for a couple of hours, then we’ll all go out. I’ll have fresh lemonade and snacks brought up.”

“What are we doing with those?” Marianne wrinkled her nose at the puppy in Bog’s arms.

“It’s yours now.” Bog chuckled, transferring it quick to Marianne’s arms again. She groaned as, once again, she had no choice but to accept it. The fat round puppy whined and licked at her chin, pushing her head against Marianne.

“I do not want a pet,” fussed Marianne, wrapping her arms around it and holding it securely against her.

“We’ll have someone watch them for you,” Maude said. “The girl is almost potty trained, but she’s six months old. The boy, not so much.”

“Typical.” Marianne glanced at the other puppy watching them with great interest, his brown eyes alert and shining.

“They’re good puppies,” added Maude, rubbing the one in her hands between the ears.

“Do they have names?” Bog asked curiously.

“The girl is Briallen, and the boy is Terwyn.” Maude handed the puppy over to Bog. “Get to know them and take them out. I’ll have someone come up to get them shortly to put them in their kennel.”

Bog turned to his wife and smiled, seeing her rubbing her cheek against Briallen’s head. “She is so soft.” Marianne giggled in delight, a welcome change from how she was only minutes before.

###

Marianne explored their set of rooms, curious about the human things. Hubert and Lincoln remained outside, Lincoln moving to the veranda doors. 

The sitting room held plush, overfilled couches, and chairs. A crackling fire burned in the fireplace--a touch of the familiar in an alien environment. The floors were gleaming wood planks covered in area rugs in vibrant colors and designs. 

Their bedroom held a massive rectangular wooden bed with a thick mattress. Adjusting to sleeping on this bed would take time. Marianne tested out the cushion and pulled up the quilt decorating the top. The sheets were amazingly soft, and so was the mattress. But why did humans insist on these rigid, inflexible designs? She had slept in a round bed since she was a child. Was it the lack of wings? 

“Ye get used to it,” said Bog, his voice tinged with amusement. 

“I don’t know.” Marianne shook her head and opened one of the doors off the bedroom to find a private bathroom. She stepped inside, gasping as her eyes lit up with the discovery. Turquoise tiles lined the walls, shifting to white halfway up. Mixed among them were random tiles bearing delicately carved designs. 

Sitting against the far wall was the most beautiful bathtub Marianne had ever seen. It was the same shade of turquoise as the tiles on the outside, and the inside gleamed a pristine white. Four gold clawed feet held it up. The urge to have a hot bath hit her, and she glanced at Bog. “Think we could both fit in it at the same time?” 

“I like the way you think,” replied Bog with a crooked grin. “Maybe after we get back tonight?” 

“A bath sounds so good,” groaned Marianne, pressing her hands to her hips and arching her back.

There was a knock on the door, followed by Hubert’s voice. “There’s lemonade and cookies out here for you.”

“Hungry?” Bog smiled at Marianne, and she grinned back.

“Yeah, then maybe a little nap?” Marianne glanced at the bed.

“Napping isn’t on my mind,” growled Bog playfully, sending a little thrill through Marianne as they opened the door and left the room.

###

Bog stared at the suit in his hands. It was vibrant purple with gold buttons. The undershirt that went with it was green, purple, and gold, swirling in designs that he would never have worn of his own choice. There was also a purple top hat with gold and green feathers stuck into the headband and a purple mask decorated with gold, ripped in green feathers on one side.

Marianne giggled next to him, looking from the suit to Bog’s face repeatedly. The outfit clearly amused her. She had a form-fitting dress made out of emerald green fabric with lace sleeves and a shallow cut front. The skirt went down past her knees, and Maude brought out several extravagant pieces of jewelry made out of gold with gleaming purple and green gems.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Marianne lifted the biggest of the pieces, running her fingers over the stones.

“They aren’t precious stones,” laughed Maude. “They’ll look great on you, and I’ll help you get them on right. Those go over your shoulders like a collar.”

Marianne lifted the jewelry, eyeing the chains and decorations. Bog swallowed hard, licking his lips as he visualized exactly what that body chain would look like over her neck and bare shoulders. And that wasn’t the end of it. There were two other pieces, plus a pair of adjustable knee-high sandals.

With an amused giggle, her face flushing red as she glanced at Bog, Marianne set the piece down, then picked up a much smaller part. She studied it, then slid it over her head so that it rested on her forehead, the gold bands, and chains with their teardrops falling neatly into place.

“That’s a collar. It goes up higher on your neck,” said Maude, reaching out to touch the gems. “Hmm, however, that actually works on you like that.”

“I like it,” said Bog with an appreciative nod.

“Okay, let’s get dressed.” Maude motioned for Bog to leave. “I’ll help Marianne get everything on correctly. When the parade is over, we’re returning here for a party.” Maude took a step back, folding her arms in front of her. “Lucien will handle your guards so they can accompany us. Don’t worry about them. Everyone will be wearing masks. It’ll be dark, and nobody will care about the color of anybody’s skin.”

Bog nodded, gathering his suit and things into his arms. He walked into the bathroom to dress, leaving Marianne in Maude’s capable hands. 

###

“I’ve never seen you wear so much jewelry,” said Bog as Marianne modeled her dress, the ornamental body chains covering her shoulder almost like armor. Their weight felt pleasant against her skin. Maude had helped her with her hair and left the collar in place over her forehead like a diadem. The set of chains that matched the pieces on her shoulder rested over her waist and hips, defining them.

Marianne smiled, turning to show off how the chains moved with her. Bog’s cheeks were tinged with pink--his eyes fixed on her in a way that revealed where his thoughts were. He liked it, and when they got home, she already had ideas of how to bring this fashion with her, although perhaps with actual armor plating.

Decorate armor with precious gems? That was a novel idea, and Marianne had plenty of real gems she could do just that. It would be a far better use than leaving them in her jewelry boxes or the royal vault. Showing them off in this fashion was an intriguing idea—that and imagining her father’s face. He had promised her a suit of armor.

“We’re all ready.” Lucian rapped on the door frame, then pushed the door open. He stood with Hubert and Lincoln, all dressed in purple or green suits with masks. William stood next to his father, dressed in a bright gold child’s suit, a feather-covered mask pulled up over his head. Maria twirled next to him in a gold and purple dress that flared out around her as she spun. She had an oversized feathered mask on that kept sliding down.

“Oh, you look as cute as a bug’s ear!” Maude swept her golden skirts around her as she rushed to hug her kids. “Let’s get out the door! We’re walking. There’ll be too many people to drive.”

A short time later, Marianne marveled at the sheer number of people surrounding them. She had never seen so many people packed together in one place. Costumed humans lined the streets, all sporting colors in purple, gold, and green. They were laughing, dancing, eating, and drinking, reveling in the party-like atmosphere.

Moving among them with a mask was freeing. Marianne was one of them, and so was her husband and the pair of guards flanking them. Hubert and Lincoln had been ordered to have fun and not worry, but they remained close to Marianne and Bog. Lucien walked near them, his son on his shoulders. Marianne glanced at him on occasion, getting used to his presence. He looked so happy, and his kids laughed and cheered at the colorful costumes.

Marianne smiled, thinking about how happy her father would be to hear he had two grandchildren. The smile vanished a moment later because it would be difficult for him to see them. Their loving father loved children, but he was always good about not pressuring her into it. He had two grandchildren, telling him they were out here in the world and couldn’t see them? It would break his heart all over again.

Bog settled an arm around Marianne’s shoulder, pulling her to him suddenly as he began talking to a woman carrying a couple of baskets filled with fruit. He gave her a single silvery coin, and she handed him two round orange fruits and a little cloth bag. “This is an orange,” said Bog, giving one of the fruits to Marianne.

It was a solid, heavy, and bumpy fruit that didn’t look at all inviting to eat. Marianne looked at Bog as he held his hands up, the cloth bag hanging by a closing string around his fingers. “Ye peel it like this.” He dug his fingers into the rind, digging through the top layer and discarding the peel at his feet.

Marianne nodded, rolling the fruit curiously in her hands before going for her. Her short nails pierced the outer skin, and she inhaled the sudden burst of sweet scent with a delighted smile. It made her mouth water, and after a few minutes, she figured out how to get the peel off.

Bog stood by observing, waiting for her. “Now ye pop it open, like this.” He demonstrated how to press his fingers into the top, then slid them down to split the orange in half. Bog peeled off a segment, showing it to Marianne, then popped it in his mouth and sighed, chewing on it. She mimicked him, her hands a sticky mess from where she had pierced the fruit with her fingernails.

That first explosion of sweetness was euphoric. It was far better than the orange soda, fresh, light, and sweet. Lucian’s family stood nearby, also enjoying a couple of oranges split between them. The kids bounced up and down eagerly around their parents.

Marianne had eaten half of the orange before realizing she should probably share with Hubert and Lincoln. The pair were standing with their backs to Bog and Marianne, watching the crowd with full alertness. “Hu, Link, try this.” She called out to them, and they turned to her. Marianne split the remains of the orange in half and gave them to her guards.

“I got something else for ye,” said Bog with a smile, holding up the little canvas bag. He had just finished his orange and took a step toward them, then he froze. An odd look crossed Bog’s face. It was gone in a flash as he spun to his side, snaking out a hand to grab something—or someone behind him.

An ashen faced, thin girl with wide, dark eyes and curly red hair stared at Bog, gaping at him. Bog’s long fingers gripped her wrist, his wallet dangling from her fingers. They stood for a moment, Bog staring into her eyes as she stared back.

“Bog,” Marianne took a step toward them and shattered whatever was going on. The wallet fell, and Bog’s hand snapped open. Without hesitation, the girl squeaked and turned, rushing into the crowd. She was gone in a moment, and Bog kneeled to retrieve his wallet.

“Bog?” Marianne repeated, moving to his side. “What was that.”

“I will tell ye later.” Bog took a deep breath, giving her a concerned frown. “We need to find that child.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I am apparently STILL recovering from Covid, so let's see if this week is better. (The lingering side affects are ANNOYING. I think I'm finally over the vertigo so hopefully the other more subtle things that are annoying me are also gone.)
> 
> I am on Chapter 18. :D Hahahahaha.. oh, it is greatness if I do say so myself. You can thank Danaknowsitall for going: Oh, they're in New Orleans and they're going to a restaurant, maybe they could go to Tiana's Palace. :D :D :D Hahahahahaha... uhhhhh.. yeeeees... it went in interesting directions. :D


	9. The Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog informs Marianne of what happened when he grabbed the little girl's hand, something entirely unexpected... and frightening for Marianne.

Bog opened the canvas bag and removed an orange slice that had been sugared with the rind still on it. Half of it had been dipped in chocolate. " Try this, love," he said, offering it to Marianne. 

"What is it?" She took the slice of candy and bit into it without waiting for an answer. Marianne sighed, her eyes rolling back as a smile spreading over her face. 

"Chocolate dipped oranges." Bog smiled at her reaction. Bringing looks like that to her face always pleased him. He held out another slice and picked the rest. Marianne nibbled on the candy as they followed Lucien and Maude through the crowd. 

After the kid tried to steal his wallet, he had wanted to take Hubert and Lincoln on a search for her. Maude did not hesitate to point out what a ridiculous notion that was in the crowd. They didn't understand, and Bog couldn't explain his reasons around so many people. 

The little thief was a fairy of some kind, and she was so lost and alone. 

Bog had better reflexes than any human, and when he caught her wrist, he touched bare skin. She wore gloves, likely for the very thing Bog triggered when he touched her. 

First, there was an explosion of shock and fear, then a flood of panicked imagery. Running from people throwing things at her screaming that she was a freak—hiding in dark, cold places filled with rats and garbage. There was so much confusion around her. But what stuck out the most was the glimpse of the child cornered in a dark alley, terror overwhelming her senses. The world grew larger, and she flew straight up, propelled by green wings that resembled tree leaves. It was only a glimpse of her reflection in a window, but it was enough. 

He was unable to focus on the activity going on around him. That child needed to be found, and he would find her and confirm his suspicions. Not only was the girl a fairy, but she might be one of the rarest fairies in existence—a Dryad. 

###

Marianne was far too caught up in the excitement around her to notice her husband was somehow missing everything. Torchbearers led the parade, dancing wildly as the parade began. The lighting coming from the street lights wasn’t that bright, but when the parade started, all the light came from around the floats. 

Lucien and his family kept close, with Hubert and Lincoln concentrating on keeping their eyes on all of them. It wasn’t easy with the number of people around then, especially when things began flying into the air from the floats or people from the parade began handing out candy, fruit, and glass beaded necklaces. 

Music filled the air as bands and groups of revelers passed in front of them in their bright costumes. By the time the last float passed before then, Marianne’s face was red from picking up the dances and joining in the singing that rose up all around them. Half a dozen colorful glass beaded necklaces hung around her neck, and she had stuffed handfuls of candy into Bog’s pockets since her dress lacked them. 

Marianne quickly realized the little silver-wrapped candies that looked like squished raindrops were chocolate, and she ate most of them along with several juicy plums. 

Maria and William each clutched a small stuffed teddy bear, their faces and hands grubby with chocolate, which was everywhere. 

“Careful,” Lucien laughed, producing a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe Maria’s face, “don’t want to get that on mommy’s dress.” 

Marianne gripped Bog’s arm tight, bouncing up and down. “That was exciting!” 

“Yeah,” replied Bog, glancing at her with a small smile. Marianne frowned, jabbing him in the side with her elbow. 

“You don’t sound excited,” she said as her husband bent over closer to her. “What’s going on with you? We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves. Where are you?”

Bog sighed heavily, rubbing his side. “I’m having a good time seeing ye having a good time.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to use that on me,” hissed Marianne, reaching out to run a hand up his neck, fingers gliding into his beard. “Maude said we’re going to a party, and we’re going to dance and have a good time.”

“Of course,” chuckled Bog, leaning in to press his lips to hers. Marianne didn’t have any defense against his warmth, and her anger fell away, replaced by something far more pleasant. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet, whirling around to make her squeal and laugh. Then he set her down, but not before reaching down to grab her rear through the dress, giving her a quick squeeze before turning away like he hadn’t touched her at all.

Marianne grinned and playfully swung the flat of her hand at Bog’s butt, catching him a smack that was far louder than she intended. Her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a giggle as Bog yelped, then looked over his shoulder at her with an absolutely wolfish smile.

“Wait until you get home!” Maude intervened, dancing in front of them. “And not in front of the kids!” She glanced at William and Maria, who looked half asleep, the little boy resting in his grinning father’s arms and the girl hanging off his free hand.

Heat rushed over Marianne’s face, and she nodded, biting her lower lip as one of Bog’s arms slid over her shoulders and back, pulling her to him. Maude laughed and motioned for them to follow. The crowd was beginning to dissipate, people dancing with each other or gathering in groups to socialize further. 

The walk home took much longer than the walk out, with Maria ending up on her giant uncle’s shoulders. Seeing the little girl on Bog’s shoulders stirred something strange within Marianne. Bog put a bounce in his step, making Maria scream with laughter and grip his head, her teddy bear flopping over his shoulder. 

Her thoughts drifted to the fall. It was possible they could have one of their own by the time the leaves turned colors, a little girl or boy who looked like them. Marianne began breathing fast, fear of the unknown rippling through her. Twins. They were likely to have twins. One child was scary enough, but two? They would have help, but what did she know about being a mother? Was she really the nurturing type? What about Bog?

Marianne looked at him and smiled, the anxiety easing. Bog loved and adored children, probably more than she did. No, liking kids wasn’t her worry. She loved them. It was just being a mother. Playing with someone else’s children was far different from being responsible for your own.

Will I be ready? Marianne began chewing on her nails, something she hadn’t done in years. Will we be ready? Didn’t everyone ask these same questions? Surely they did. She didn’t have time to dwell on it as they neared Maude’s place. People were gathered outside in costume, and music rose into the air, coming from the open area between Maude’s restaurants.

They walked into the open area in front of the house to find people already filling the space. Tables lined one wall, filled with platters of food, and there was a bartender discretely mixing drinks and giving them out on request. “Help yourself,” said Lucien, gesturing to the table as he picked up a plate, carefully balancing William in one arm and the plate in the other. The boy was half asleep, his head resting against his father’s shoulder.

“I’ll take her.” Maude lifted her hands to take Maria off Bog’s shoulders, and he bowed to make it easier for her. Maria laughed, hugging Bog’s head. Marianne smiled, her mood lifting. “We’ll get these little monkeys a little food, then put them to bed.” Maria bounced next to her mother, clutching her bear in her arms.

“Go on. You are our guests.” Lucien motioned to the table, and suddenly, both Lincoln and Hubert stepped to his side, lifting plates.

“If it pleases you, we’ll take care of your plates,” offered Lincoln as the pair of them bowed their heads to Lucien and Maude. 

“That-that’s unnecessary,” Lucien stumbled over his words, glancing at his wife as his face turned bright red.

“We’re happy to help,” added Hubert. 

Maude smiled, glancing at her husband. “I don’t see any harm in it.” Lucien nodded but didn’t smile. Marianne frowned at her brother’s obvious discomfort.

“I’ll help,” offered Marianne, stepping forward to take the plate from Lincoln. Family help was an entirely different thing than guards. 

“Me too.” Bog caught on and stepped forward without hesitation, taking the other plate from Hubert. “Ye two did a good job tonight. Why don’t ye eat and enjoy the music.” The guards glanced at each other, then dipped their heads in a brief bow.

There was no further discussion as Bog and Marianne helped Lucien and Maude. The kids fussed more than ate, realizing they were going to bed soon and not getting to stay up later. Never mind that William kept tipping over into his plate, and Maria was distracted by everything. Marianne sat across from them, leaning against Bog as they enjoyed their dinner to the sound of live Jazz music. Maude talked the entire time, telling them what everything was.

Then the kids were taken inside and tucked into bed. Marianne and Bog joined the partygoers, dancing among them as if they did it all the time. By the time the party ended, Marianne had to be helped to their room. Her feet and legs ached, but she was happy and maybe a little tipsy. There had been a few drinks passed around that she and Bog tried.

Bog was in a far more mirthful and relaxed mood once they retired to their room. Lincoln and Hubert kept close, neither of whom had imbibed, although they had danced with several girls.

“I think we’ll see about that bath in the morning.” Bog chuckled, setting Marianne on their bed. She sprawled out on the bed with a delighted sigh, squinting at the light overhead. “Don’t want ye falling asleep in there and drowning. I might be too tired to save ye.” Bog opened his mouth in an exaggeratedly long yawn.

“So,” Marianne sat up with a tired smile on her face, “what is it that was bothering you earlier?”

Bog began removing his clothing, starting with his shoes, then his suit jacket. “That girl that tried to steal my wallet—she’s a fairy.”

“How do you know that?” Marianne reached back to unclasp the body chain across her shoulders. 

“I saw it when I grabbed her.” Bog laid the jacket over the back of a chair, going for his shirt next, carefully unbuttoning it. 

“You saw it?” Marianne’s face scrunched up at his reply. “You can see things like that?”

“No, it was her, not me. I think she’s a Dryad child.” Bog took a deep breath as he said it. Marianne went completely silent. 

Dryad?

She had heard horror stories about Dryads as a child. They were frightening, wild fairies, and they were feared. Dryads were to be avoided at all costs because they were considered very dangerous with their strange ways and abilities.

“She’s alone and afraid.” Bog didn’t look at her as he spoke. “We must find her and take her home with us.”

A cold, creeping sensation spread through Marianne, like ice in her veins. Take a Dryad home with them? To live in their kingdoms? How would that work? Dryads were things they told their children about to keep them from wandering too far from home. Nobody would want a Dryad anywhere near them. 

“Bog,” Marianne said gently. “We can’t do that.”

“Ye didn’t see what I saw.” Bog turned to face her, frowning, his eyebrows knit together with grim determination. “She is a fairy child with no-one, and she is so alone.” Marianne grimaced at his words, squirming uncomfortably. They were about to have an argument. Under no circumstances could this Dryad come back with them.

Bog stopped in front of her, bowing to kiss her on the forehead, then leaning his head against hers. He spoke sadly, his words saturated with feeling. “She’s alone, just like I was. Only worse, because she doesn’t even have a mother. I know what is said about Dryads. Some of the same things said about me. Ye need to trust me, love, my rising moon.” 

Marianne’s throat tightened, and her eyes began burning, the words hitting her heart at full impact. “I love you, my king,” whispered Marianne.

“And this child needs someone to show them there is light in her darkness and someone who will care for her as a parent.” Bog whispered, kissing the bridge of Marianne’s nose. “Help me find her and bring her home? We can not leave such a precious life to this world.”

With that, Marianne’s heart tore open with sadness. She understood where Bog was coming from, even though she didn’t like it. He was right. So many awful, frightening things had been said about the king of the Dark Forest, and they were not entirely true. He only needed kindness and the opportunity to be a better person, and he rose to the occasion. Now he wanted to share that with someone else who needed it, and as foolish as it felt, she would follow his lead and trust him. 

If she could trust him to be her husband, then she could trust his judgment. Bog began kissing her affectionately, running his hands along her back and up into her hair. Nothing else needed to be said as she leaned back and enjoyed the attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Dryads have terrifying reputations and there are many reasons for it... but hey.. Bog ALSO had a terrifying reputation... and Marianne still loves him and knows it's not all true. Now... how are they going to find a tiny little girl who doesn't WANT to be found in a massive city that isn't all that nice to children?  
> Comments are lovely, because I get sad when I post a lot of chapters and nobody says anything. I really enjoy a simple, like this! - Tiff


	10. The Search Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog and Marianne go out into New Orleans looking for the little fairy girl.

Mornings were for people with names like Dawn and Sunny, not Marianne. She groaned, recalling her husband also had a bizarre love of mornings. He had been up for at least an hour, taking a quick shower, then trying to get her up. When she wouldn’t do anything more than grumble and pull the blanket over her head, he gave up and left.

Despite her misgivings about the bed, it proved to be incredibly comfortable and warm. The moment Marianne’s head hit the pillow, she was out and slept peacefully—until Bog got out of bed. Her husband’s ability to get by on less sleep than her was annoying, but not something she could do anything about. Instead, she enjoyed another hour napping until the door to their room opened and closed, and Bog walked in carrying a tray of food. 

There was no resistance available when the aroma of syrup hit Marianne’s nose. She sat up groggily, blinking at her husband as he set the tray across her lap. The items on the plate looked vaguely familiar but smelled different. “These are pancakes,’ said Bog, sitting next to her. “Syrup, butter, sliced oranges, and milk. I already ate and thought I’d bring breakfast up to ye.”

“Thank you, sunshine,” mumbled Marianne. She gave him a crooked smile, which he returned with a tilt of his head, showing off his crooked teeth. A hint of pink rose onto his cheeks, and her smile widened. How much did she love this ridiculous man? His shy smiles and the way he looked at her, as though she were the most remarkable being in the world, brought about feelings that only existed for him.

Marianne looked away, unable to stop smiling as she went to work on breakfast. Bog sat patiently beside her, waiting. “I thought we’d go out after breakfast and explore the city, just ye and me.”

“You managed to convince Hu and Link we don’t need them following us?” Marianne cut off a piece of pancake and tentatively stuck it in her mouth, then groaned as the rich maple syrup and melted butter hit her tongue.

“I ordered them to remain here and help Maude and Lucien clean up,” said Bog, a smug grin on his face.

“So we’re sneaking out, so we don’t have to help?” Marianne laughed, picking up the glass of milk and sipping. 

“We,” chuckled Bog, sliding an arm around Marianne’s shoulders, “are officially on our Honeymoon. Two weeks where we do what we want and don’t clean up after ourselves.”

“I have maids and servants who clean up after us all the time.” Marianne glanced at Bog, licking her lips. “And your mother cleans up after us too.”

“Ye and I told her not to.” Bog shook his head, scowling. “I want my mother to stop doing stuff like that and enjoy her life.”

Marianne nodded, mulling over Bog’s words as she ate. “Griselda likes doing things for you and me.”

Bog tightened his arm around Marianne, giving her a small squeeze. “I haven’t been good to my mother for years, love. In fact, I’ve been an awful son.” He took a deep breath, slumping forward and folding his arms across his lap. “Ye know I’ve been trying to make up for all the stupid decisions I’ve made over the years.”

“You’re too hard on yourself.” Marianne leaned toward him, hitting his arm with her shoulder. “Too much of a perfectionist.”

“And yet, I hurt my mam,” mumbled Bog, a clear tone of sadness dragging his voice down. “I was so caught up in me and my rule that I never noticed how much she did for me. Her entire life since I was born… was about me. I don’t want that any more.”

“Did you ever think that maybe that’s her choice?” Marianne cringed. This was foreign territory. Memories of her mother were of a woman who doted after her daughters and husband with the same fervent devotion Bog’s mother had to him. Yes, she had duties as queen outside of the family, but Griselda’s entire world revolved around taking care of her son. 

Over the last year, Marianne came to understand a lot about Bog, and one of those things was forgetting to take care of himself. Even though he loved food, he would forget to eat or drink. His sleep habits had been to work until he was exhausted and only then slept. This was just something she knew would involve her for the rest of her life. Bog had been entirely up front about his quirks and things he did, hiding nothing from her.

Marianne, for her part, did the same. He knew what he was getting into with her and she with him, and every part of her wanted it. They were good together because they worked at their relationship as one. Bog was worth putting up with his bursts of anxious behavior. It wasn’t like she was any better than him with her fidgeting and need to help.

“Before my father died, he brought her a dog as a gift,” said Bog in a morose tone, twining his fingers. “Duncan was her companion after Da died, and when Duncan passed away,” he paused, sniffing, “I told her it was only a dog, a useless pet that served no purpose, and we didn’t need another creature to take care of anyway.”

“Oh.” Marianne set her fork down, giving her full attention to her husband.

“I ignored her tears and mourning.” Bog’s lips quivered as he stared at his hands. “I was that cold and uncaring.”

“Yeah, that’s really awful,” agreed Marianne gently. “That’s why you got her another dog?”

“Yes,” mumbled Bog. “I want to make it up to her, and I want to be a better son. I shut down when my father died, but I never acknowledged the fact my mam lost the love of her life.” Marianne rested a hand on his arm, offering comfort in the best way she knew how. With Bog, most of the time, he sulked or brooded when thinking about something troubling. Pushing him to talk didn’t work as well as simply making it known that she was there to listen. These moods were always the same, focused on the past and what he had done and how much he regretted his decisions.

“I don’t think you have to work on that.” Marianne smiled, leaning against her husband. “Just be you.”

“Me was awful.” Bog cringed, leaning toward Marianne, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Left to my own devices, ye know what I did, and I deserved all the things said about me.”

“We’ve talked about this,” she said, stroking her fingers down his arm, his very soft-skinned arm that held the same scars as his fairy body. “You chose to be a better person and a better ruler. That’s all you wanted--to be better--and you did it because it was right.”

“And to be with ye,” added Bog, kissing the top of her head. “But even then, yeah, I didn’t want things to continue the way they were. I just had no idea how to correct what I’d done.” He frowned, breathing warmly into her hair. “I worry, that is still a part of me, hidden somewhere deep. Our relationship will change. I know they do, and what happens if I go down a dark path again?”

“You only went down that path because you didn’t have any guidance.” Marianne groaned, digging her nails lightly into his arm. “Now, you have my dad and me, and maybe you can even listen to your mum.”

“And there is my point.” Bog sighed heavily. “I could have listened to her, but I chose not to hear a word she said. Mam ruled with Da and knew everything that needed to be done, and if I had just listened to her…”

“What?” Marianne groaned. “You can not go back and change the past, Bog.”

“No, but that side of me that ignores my loved ones, I worry it will come back.” Bog shifted, nudging Marianne to return to her breakfast. 

“Oh, I’ll let you know if you do that.” Marianne dug into her pancakes, which were no longer steaming hot. “I love you. Nothing can change that, my king.”

“I love ye too, my queen, which is why I worry.” He smiled, which was thankfully how these conversations ended more often than not. Sometimes, Bog just needed to talk, and she listened, even if it was a conversation they had before. “We’re going to find that Dryad kid.”

“Right.” The previous night’s conversation returned. “What are we going to do with a kid?”

“Be there for them.” Bog adjusted the pillows behind him, then leaned against them. “We’ll figure it out after we find her. Trust my judgment, love. She’s a lost, frightened soul who needs a family. We can be that family.”

Marianne nodded, licking syrup off her fork. Her husband was set on finding this child, and she would help him. There was a possibility they would never find her in the city--it was so big. Yet, this was Bog doing the hunting, and if anyone could find a fairy in a human city, it was him.  
###

Marianne showered and dressed in her traveling clothes, putting on a couple of the glass beaded necklaces. Bog promised to get her another outfit or two while they were out, and Marianne was eager to go shopping, far more enthusiastic than he expected.

At home, she had a few favored outfits, and they were all well worn. In her kingdom, she could have outfits, dresses, tunics, and pants made at her whim, but she didn’t. Marianne liked to say she wasn’t Dawn, needing to have a new dress for ever event and occasion. She liked what she liked and dressed for comfort.

After a brief conversation with Maude, Bog and Marianne walked to a nearby bus stop to catch a bus to the French Market. They planned to spend the day there and return before dinner. And again, they were like any other human, taking their seats and enjoying the ride. Marianne sat near the window so she could see everything. 

Bog loved the smile on her face. He was giving her what she wanted, an experience seeing new things, and an opportunity to have a little adventure. Some of it might not be pleasant, but they were doing it together. The humans around them were too busy going on with their business to give them a second glance. That was the benefit of a large city over a small town. They could blend in and be one of them with ease.

“Let’s see what we can find,” said Bog, holding his hand out to Marianne as they disembarked from the streetcar. Even though she didn’t need any help, she took his hand and smiled. Bog valued these small gestures—shows of trust. Marianne slid her arm around his, leaning against him as they walked.

“It’s a lot like a market at home,” Marianne commented as they walked down a busy street packed with vendors.

“Yeah.” Bog kept his eyes open, scanning the perimeters of the crowd for any signs of the girl. He wasn’t sure how far she might wander, other than she wouldn’t return to the same area where he had caught her. That much was certain. 

Marianne pulled him toward a little white cart hitched to a mule through the middle of the street. “What’s Roman Chewing Candy?”

“It’s also called taffy,” said Bog, walking with her, his hand already in his pocket. He removed his wallet as they joined the line. “Maude asked me to get some for the kids.”

“Oh!” Marianne laughed. “It’s been years since I’ve had taffy.” 

“My sister gave me some one Christmas,” said Bog with a smile. “It was too sticky for me. This doesn’t look so bad. It’s fresh.” He turned his attention to the taffy puller, hooking the ball of taffy around a hook inside the cart, pulling it and twisting it repeatedly. 

Bog might not have craved candy like Marianne, but watching the display and people ahead of them unwrapping their candy to take a bite made him more open to sampling. They didn’t have to wait long and left fifty cents lighter, carrying a dozen long sticks of candy wrapped individually in white wax paper. 

Marianne wasted no time peeling the paper down off a brown stick and taking a bite. The soft candy stretched as she attempted to separate it from the rest of the stick. Bog chuckled, tucking the rest of the sticks beneath his arm to watch Marianne try in vain to cut the gooey taffy.

“Bit off more than ye can chew?” he asked after a moment, the strings of chocolate still attached to the rest of the stick and now to her fingers.

“Haha, you are so funny.” Marianne wrinkled her nose, then held out the stick to Bog. He leaned down and took a bite, grinding his jaw before pulling away to sever the taffy from the stick without leaving as much of a stringy mess. There were still strings, but not the mess Marianne was left to deal with. 

“There’s a trick to it.” Bog chuckled, slowly chewing the flavorful candy, savoring the rush of chocolate in his mouth. It wasn’t bad, and the texture was just right—not too hard or overly chewy.

“You could have shared.” She grunted, finally getting the mess contained.

Bog laughed, stopping in line in front of a drink vendor. “I didn’t know the trick until I saw ye make a mess. Ye cut it up close to the stick, and it doesn’t get all stringy on ye.”

“Hmpth.” Marianne grinned, twisting the wax paper closed over the piece of candy. “I changed my mind. You’re no fun at all.” She licked her fingers, one at a time, making sure she got all the sticky strands off. Bog smiled, glancing at his wife. The expression on her face was one of almost childish delight, that look he relished seeing there. Hopefully, the worst part of the trip was over. They had two weeks of being another face in a crowd, and there was so much to see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew about Roman Chewing Candy from a Food Network/Travel show years ago. It was such a cool story, it stuck with me. I've never had any, but someday, maybe I'll get to go to New Orleans and get some. :) Along with beignets. I've never had one.  
> I hope you enjoy the story! It's nice to get some comments on it, since I'm partially fueled on good, kind words. Thank you and enjoy your day!


	11. Valentine's Day Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marianne is doing her best to remain on board with Bog's plans to find the Dryad child, but doubts return and she just hopes he never finds her. The city's massive. Finding one little girl in such a place should be impossible....

Four mornings in a row, they were up early and left to go to a different part of New Orleans. It was fun, and Marianne enjoyed the full days of exploration, but she knew Bog was only partially with her. He was looking for the girl, and they hadn’t caught a glimpse of her the entire time. Furthermore, the city’s size as it unfolded before her was so vast-- she was confident they would never find her.

On the fifth morning, they were awakened by the sound of the family getting ready to go somewhere. Marianne slept through it and woke with sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows, Bog standing in front of it, already dressed. Singing echoed throughout the house, coming from the large meeting room that served as a classroom through the week.

Marianne sat up, rubbing her eyes. “What’s that?”

“Church,” replied Bog, raising his arms over his head in an exaggerated stretch. 

“What?” Marianne yawned, covering her head with her hand. The song echoed through the halls, a sound that sent shivers up her back. It was beautiful and exciting, the voices exuberant and joyful.

“A religious service.” Bog turned and walked to the table in the room where a tray of food sat. “Maude and Lucien left with the kids earlier to attend their service, and a church is in the front hall having their service because they don’t have a building, and they can’t afford the space.”

“How long were you up this morning?” Marianne eyed her husband. He had to have been up for hours and let her sleep in peace. The sun seemed high in the sky.

“It’s Sunday. Nothing is open until after two,” said Bog, lifting the tray. “I talked to Maude while they got ready. We were invited to their service, but I thought it would be awkward since that is a part of their culture and not yers or mine.”

“Well, not exactly,” grimaced Marianne. “I just wouldn’t invite you to the services because it’s obviously not your way. We came from Europe and brought a lot of human ways with us.” She broke into laughter. “Did you know that they think of fairies as demoted angels? It’s silly and a little disturbing. It’s not what we were taught growing up because obviously, we aren’t.”

“Demoted angels?” Bog chuckled, laying the tray across Marianne’s lap. “That’s better than what the humans were taught where my family originated.” Bog sat next to her, slipping an arm over her shoulders and kissing her forehead. “They think we’re demons.”

“I like my teaching better.” Marianne studied the tray in front of her. There was a large glass of orange juice, and fruit cut into the shape of hearts along with pancakes—also cut into hearts. There was even a heart-shaped pat of butter on top of the pancakes, swimming in a lake of syrup. “That when the angels revolted, the gates of Heaven were close, cutting off access to Heaven to all angels, not just those that revolted. Good angels were trapped on earth, and they became fairies.”

“Huh,” said Bog, staring at her in wonder. “Seriously, on our side, because the humans in our homeland left offerings to us, which by the way, we did not necessarily want, we were labeled demons, and they sought to wipe us out. It was because the humans left human sacrifices.”

Marianne made a face at Bog, a piece of heart-shaped strawberry almost to her lips. “You ate humans?”

“No, they were alive.” Bog gave her a wry smile. “They are the Nadir and Tellur, who are the descendants of all those ‘sacrifices’. We took them as servants, and most don’t even remember they came from humans.”

“Oh.” Marianne blinked at this. “Sunny. Sunny’s a Tellur? He’s a human?”

Bog nodded. ‘Yes, they all are.”

Marianne popped the strawberry into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “That’s interesting.”

“The offerings stopped, and we were hunted. We did nothing to deserve it other than existing, and we fled into the deepest, darkest forests to save ourselves.” Bog settled back against his pillows. They sat in silence for a moment, Marianne studying another strawberry. “Honestly, I can see why they thought we were demons.”

“Yeah.” Marianne popped the strawberry into her mouth, then began cutting into her pancake. “But I don’t understand why they thought we were angels. I know we were good to humans we considered our friends, but we don’t have magical powers. They just assumed we did.”

“It’s because ye were pretty, not like Dragonfae, nothing like us at all.” Bog chuckled, leaning against her shoulder. “My love, ye are so beautiful. No wonder nobody would want to harm ye.”

“But they did at some points. Some groups, they thought we were evil too,” said Marianne, eating a fork full of delicious, syrup saturated pancakes. “We are no more evil than humans can be…Roland.”

“Don’t say his name.” Bog scowled, every muscle in his body tensing and tight at the thought. “We’re done with him. He will never bother us again.” He paused, then asked curiously, “How do ye practice a religion that has members that say ye are evil?”

“We’re not a part of those sects.” Marianne took a sip of her orange juice, then giggled. “Don’t worry. I know you’re not evil. Human sacrifices or not.” She leaned against his chest, smiling at him and offering him her glass.

“We were never evil.” Bog took the glass and took a little sip before handing it back. “I love orange juice. Someday, I want to live in a place that grows oranges, so we can have them all the time.”

“Hmmm.” Marianne set the glass on the tray, going for a slice of orange—also cut into a heart. “That sounds nice. Can you make oranges grow at home? With your abilities?”

“Ye know, I never thought about trying.” Bog said thoughtfully.

“Okay, why is everything cut into a heart?” Marianne took another bite of her pancake and turned toward Bog as she asked.

Bog turned and picked up a box sitting on the nightstand. She hadn’t noticed it before, and he handed it to her. “For me?” She set her fork down and accepted the box. 

It was white with a red velvet ribbon edged in gold-wrapped neatly around it. It was heavy, and she looked at Bog curiously, pulling on one end to unravel it. “There’s nothing special about today. We met the first time in April.” Bog smiled, his cheeks a faint shade of pink.

The ribbon fell across Marianne’s hand, and she glanced at Bog with a smile before lifting the lid. She gasped at what was inside. It was a heart-shaped cake covered in pale pink icing and strawberries cut in the shape of roses—the words: Be Mine were written in the center of the cake in ornate script.

“I never thought I’d say this,” whispered Bog, leaning in close. “Happy Valentines’ Day, love. I thought we’d start with sleeping in, taking a bath together, then stay here for the day and relax. I’m sorry I’ve been draggin’ ye all over the city, and I guess I’ve been a little neglectful. I’m sorry.”

Marianne smiled at him, unable to say anything for a moment, overcome by the sweet gesture and words. “Oh, sweetie, you didn’t have to do this. It’s okay. I know how important finding that Dryad is to you.” Guilt hit her, mingling with the shame. Her earlier thoughts might have been a little selfish, but it was supposed to be their honeymoon—Theirs, not just hers.

The girl had been something unexpected, cropping up out of nowhere. She had given up looking for her after the second day, leaving it to Bog. It wasn’t as important to her as him, and suddenly, her needs fell to the wayside. He had still given her his time and attention, and now he felt he had done something wrong.

She set the box down and turned, running her hands up his chin, through his beard. Marianne leaned toward him, and he met her, kissing her deeply, passionately. There were several minutes of simply kissing, enjoying the warmth of his lips and body so close to hers. 

Last year, just a year from today, she had sat in her room, sulking because her father wanted her to go to a Valentine’s Day Ball and dance. The whole ordeal had been for her father, who wanted her to find a man. But she already had one—that mysterious fairy who teased her and taunted her throughout the prior year. At the time, she didn’t realize just what that strange dance was, but it had left its impression on her through the winter. 

And today? She had been married to Bog for four months after a spring and summer, and fall getting to know him more personally—finding him everything she wanted. Even when he annoyed her, she loved him. They were different but so alike—perfect complements that made them stronger.

“I love you, Bog,” Marianne pulled away after a moment, breathless. “Don’t worry about me.”

“And I love ye, tough girl,” crooned Bog, taking on a tone that made Marianne’s blood rush to her head, and warmth flood her body. “Enjoy yer breakfast. I’m going to go run ye that bath and treat ye like the queen ye are.”

Marianne smiled as he kissed her again, then crossed the room to go to the bathroom. Oh, how she loved him. Loved to look at him, to see his crooked smile, the blush, and shyness he still had around her. He was her king—the love of her life, and that would never change.

###

Bog focused his attention on Marianne, spending the day with her first, enjoying the morning together in their rooms. Marianne dressed in one of the outfits they had bought earlier in the week—a dress that clung to her hips and thighs, then spread out in small pleats that reached her ankles. It was striped, turquoise, and cream, with a layered, sleeveless top made out of sheer cloth. A cloth scarf with the same striping finished the outfit, wrapped loosely over Marianne’s neck. She wore a pair of black, lace-up, knee-high boots beneath it. The boots had blocky heels, which added several inches to her height.

When the church service ended, they went outside and sat on a porch rocker on the veranda, enjoying the warm morning sun. Marianne ended up laying her head on Bog’s lap. Lincoln and Hubert accompanied them, one standing on the far side of the veranda, the other inside the door leading inside. The two guards did their jobs flawlessly, even though Bog tried to get them to go away. He didn’t fear the human world nearly as much as the natural.

The smell of frying chicken filled the air, coming from the kitchen that served both of Maude’s restaurants. “Sunday lunch,” said Bog, stroking Marianne’s hair. “They’ll come and get us when it’s ready.”

“One of the things I love about this place is that it smells like home.” Marianne sighed, a contented smile on her lips. “Our castles smell like good food, and it’s homey.”

“So ye are more comfortable than when we arrived?” Bog smiled at her, eyes half-closed. “Ye wanted to leave immediately.”

“Can you blame me?” Marianne groaned, wrinkling her nose. Bog chuckled and pressed a fingertip to her nose, dragging it down over her lips, wiping away the annoyed expression. She smiled and kissed his finger, opening her eyes to peer at him. “I’m looking forward to spending time with them today.”

“So am I.” Bog grinned, kicking off the rocker into a gentle sway with a push of his foot.

“I still can’t get over the fact that you knew Lucien and never once thought he was a fairy, yet you figured out the Dryad girl was a Dryad in minutes.” Marianne began musing thoughtfully, reaching up to touch Bog’s beard, playing with it as he smiled and closed his eyes.

He couldn’t get over how pleasant her touch was, always setting off the most amazing feelings and emotions. She was the only one who could do that to him. “It wasn’t the same thing,” said Bog. “Ye see, this was something the girl did to me. I had no idea what Lucien was because he was a human and was already friends with my family. I never suspected.”

A knock came from the door to their room, and Hubert hurried off to answer it. He returned a moment later. “Lunch is ready, and Lucien asked you to join them.”

“Great.” Bog shifted, and Marianne sat up, stretching. “I’m about to begin drooling if I keep smelling all that food cooking any longer without having any.”

Marianne laughed, bouncing to her feet. “Yuck.”

“Yuck?” Bog gave her a broad grin, lifting one eyebrow. He turned, raising his hand to shield his expression from the guards, waggling his eyebrows and running his tongue over his lips, just for her benefit.

“No!” Marianne shrieked, glancing at Lincoln and Hubert, who gave her questioning looks. “Don’t you dare say that in front of them!” She cut him off and bounded to the door, laughing giddily.

For a moment, Bog considered shouting what he had thought after her, but embarrassing her in front of her guards and possibly family on this day would be inappropriate. Instead, he chuckled and walked after her, giving her looks like he intended to say something at any moment. He was rewarded with Marianne’s face turning pink, a nervous smile now on her face.

Lucien gave them a perplexed look when they stumbled out of their room, giggling and glancing at each other. He, Maude, and the kids stood outside, waiting in the hall, dressed up, but not in the fancier clothing they had worn earlier.

“You look so pretty, Aunt Marianne!” squealed Maria, clapping her hands together, then adding in a conspiratory whisper, “like a fairy princess.”

Marianne grimaced, turning red. She glanced at Bog, and he sighed. “We’ll fix this in the future. The good thing is… when they visit, they’ll get to meet their grandfather in your home.”

“I thought they were to remain… like this?” Marianne glanced at Lucien and Maude. 

“Lucien messes things up.” Bog punched him lightly on the shoulder, and Lucien gave him a rueful grin, rubbing the spot. “The point of not crossing over is, so ye don’t remain looking young forever. Now, the problem is… Maude will age as she should, so she has to come visit, and oh, is that going to be entertaining.”

“Erm?” Maude’s face turned red as she looked at Lucien.

“Ye don’t exactly know what ye will look like until ye pass through and the kids.” Bog grinned at Maria and William. “We’re going to get a sneak peek of what our kids will look like.”

“I expect you to visit soon.” Marianne jutted her lower lip out, lowering her gaze on her brother. “You have to. You owe the entire family and me.”

“I know, I know.” Lucien groaned and motioned down the hall. “We’ll discuss this later. For now, let’s eat.”

“Ye know the proper way to change the topic,” chuckled Bog as they began walking.

“We shouldn’t talk about it here.” Maude glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “The kids understand it’s a secret. We talked.” She went quiet for a moment, then added in a whisper, “And I’m afraid of the disappointment when we don’t look like what they think we will.”

“Oh.” Marianne nodded, her eyes wide.

Bog grimaced, “I see. Maybe we leave the kids with their grandparents. It’s not necessary for them to visit.” The kids, raised in the human world, likely thought that all fairies were beautiful, with colorful wings—like Marianne. Given that they were hybrids and Dragonfae genetics tended to dominate all other genetics, they would not look like they expected.

“No!” shouted Maria and William. They stopped walking, turning sad faces to Bog. 

“We’re fa-” started Maria.

“Maria!” Maude snapped, cutting her off. “No. You promised.” William shut his mouth tight, clapping his hands over it as Maria gave her mother a frustrated look. “I promise, we will talk about this together and decide what we’re going to do, but Uncle Bog has the final say. And if you say that word in front of anyone who is not family, Marianne Charlotte Turner, you will never go with us.”

Maria’s eyes grew wide, and her face paled at the threat. “Yes, Mother,” she said, backing away from Bog. Maude gave her a stern look until she stood by her father, then they began walking again, in silence.

Their mood began lifting again once they reached the main doors. Bog smiled, seeing a group of kids—the kids who were schooled during the week—walking past a table full of brown paper bags and bottled sodas. Each kid grabbed a bag and a soda, said thank-you to the teacher monitoring the table, then walked off to enjoy their food. 

Bog looked down the line and froze, then turned and walked back through the doors. Marianne frowned, looking at him in surprise before joining him. “Bog, what are you doing? The food’s out there.” Lucien and Maude looked back from the bottom of the steps.

“So is she,” whispered Bog, motioning to the line of kids. There were only six kids left, and at the end of the line, keeping space between her and the other kids--was the Dryad child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe it's been said in the story before, that fairies attract fairies, even disguised as humans and never having gone into their fairy form. The primary reason this is a rule in this world is because fairies mingle with humans and as humans a LOT, and if the rule also that a drop of fairy blood will make you a fairy... then the world would be more fairy than human, given their life spans. 
> 
> So there are a lot of hidden fairies in New Orleans. >:D A. LOTTTT. Oh, I can not wait for the next chapter when I have to add a bunch of new tags, but I'll wait to add those tags until the week after. Hehehe.
> 
> In any case, this kid normally doesn't stick around places for too long, but for some reason, ... is here right now. I love the thing where someone is looking desperately for something/trying to avoid it... and that thing drops right in their lap. Now what?
> 
> I had never heard the story about stranded angels being turned into fairies and thought it was a lovely thing to share... since Bog has a very different experience with humans. :D 
> 
> Happy Holidays and see you next Wednesday!


	12. All About Sharon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog ends up with a lot more information on Sharon than he thought he would get, but any moves will need to be made the next day. It's Valentine's Day and Maude and Lucien have arranged a special.... very special date night for them....

Bog closed the door, leaving only a crack, hiding behind them with Marianne. Maude walked up to the doors, and her hands dropped to her hips as she demanded, “Bog, what are you doing?” 

“That girl with the red hair who’s last in line is the girl I’ve been looking for.” Bog whispered through the door. “I don’t want to scare her.” 

Maude jerked her head towards the kids and gasped, turning back to Bog. “Sharon? The redhead?” 

“Yeah, that is the girl,” Bog confirmed, keeping his voice low. A tremor ran through his body. It took everything he had not to leave the house and stalk the kid, but reason won. If she was here now, she would return. 

Maude muttered in thought, “That fits.” She sighed, glancing back. “And she’s gone, so you can come out.” 

“Yer sure, Maude, because I don’t want her to see me,” said Bog warily, peering through the opening. “I don’t want to scare her.” 

“Sharon is incredibly shy.” Maude pushed the door open further. “She stays away from everyone and never spends the night, so she also never has an evening meal. I assume she is stealing to make up for the meals she’s missing. I’m sorry, Bog. “ 

“Don’t be, Maude.” Bog stepped through the door, still looking for the girl. No mistakes could occur. 

“Poor girl,” said Marianne sympathetically. 

Bog followed Maude down the steps, Marianne sliding an arm around his. “What do ye know, Maude?” 

“Her name is Sharon, she’s fourteen, but acts young for her age, more like Maria.” Maude began talking as they approached the buffet. “She’s smart and engages in class when asked questions.” 

“She’s been here every day we’ve gone to look for her?” Bog groaned in dismay. He had searched so hard for her, and she was sitting in the classroom each day? 

“Never misses a day. “Maude giggled in amusement. “Nobody is allowed to touch her or corner her. Sharon is like a wild animal if the doors close all the way. Whatever happened to her must have been awful, but we’ve earned her trust to a point she comes in to learn and eat. We’re able to talk to her.” 

Bog scowled, his stomach turning. This child did not belong here. This arrangement was okay, but there was a better place for her. Marianne squeezed his arm, reminding him she was there. Bog glanced at her and smiled as she pushed a plate against his hands. 

“You found her,” said Marianne with a smile. “We’ll think of some way to talk to her.”

“Yes, so enjoy lunch, and don’t worry,” added Maude with a smile, laying her hand on Bog’s arm. “We have to be careful because if we lose her trust, she may never come back again, and she’s a child among people who consider her… trash.”

Bog nodded slowly, pursing his lips. His appetite fled and left a vacant pit, twisting and pulling everything inside into tight knots. Sharon. Her name was Sharon, and she was fourteen. The information rolled inside his head, mixing with other vague things he recalled. There was a book in his father’s library about Dryads, and he had read it once—when he was a child.

If she was a teenager and acted like a child, that made perfect sense. Dragonfae matured slower than other fairies, who matured slower than humans because they had long lifespans. Dryads lived even longer and developed at a much slower rate. To humans, she was a teenager, but in reality, she might as well have been ten.

He didn’t pay attention to what he put on his plate, taking a scoop here or a piece of something from a bowl. Trash. She was a child, a treasure not to be discarded simply because someone considered her a burden. The desire to get to her and make everything better grew with each ensuing thought. 

“Those gelatin cubes don’t look like they go well with mashed potatoes and gravy,” said Marianne, nudging Bog’s arm. Bog glanced at his plate, then to Marianne, realizing he was doing it again. She gave him an amused smirk, and he returned it with a grimace.

“I’m sorry,” Bog whispered, and his shoulders slumped forward. Anger and sadness fought for control, rending his heart with clawed fingers. Eating was the last thing on his mind. Everything hurt for the lost child. Yes, other children sat nearby that didn’t have parents, but their needs were taken care of. They had places to sleep and each other.

Sharon was alone.

Entirely alone.

Alone.

That was something Bog knew a lot about, even though he had a family. It was a special kind of loneliness reserved for those who thought nobody would ever choose to love them with the added pain of abandonment. That was the overwhelming emotion she had shown him when he had his hand on her wrist, followed by fear. He understood her like nobody else would, and finding her was vital.

“Bog,” whispered Marianne as they reached the end of the table. He gave her a questioning look, and she smiled, understanding without a word spoken. “Let’s go inside to eat. You don’t look like you are up to socializing.”

“No, I’m fine.” Bog shook his head, heading to the table Lucian and Maude were helping Maria and William sit at. They had plates for them and glasses of lemonade sitting next to their plates. “I’m not ruining yer time with yer brother.”

“You look awful,” muttered Marianne.

“I’m sure I do.” Bog sighed, then forced a smile. Marianne smirked, then laughed. “Okay, but after lunch, I’m treating you like a king. This isn’t a day just for me.” 

Bog gave his wife a more genuine smile. Despite how he felt, this was a good turn of events. He had her name and a little information. Hopefully, they would find a way to get her to return with them, and he wouldn’t have to drag her kicking and screaming like a wild animal back to his kingdom.

#

Patience.

Be patient.

Marianne repeated the words to herself, watching her husband push food around his plate and take a bit here or there. His lack of appetite killed hers, and there was so much good food. Maude had suggested a few things, like deviled eggs and divinity, to go with the things Marianne had eaten before. She had piled her plate with a piece of fried chicken, potato salad, and sliced fruit.

Lincoln and Hubert remained nearby and would eat when they finished. Other families spread out in the courtyard, laughing and talking among themselves. Marianne watched as a very pretty young woman with dark skin tried to talk to Hubert, her hands clasped behind her back. The way the woman stood indicated she wanted his attention for more than just an idle conversation. She wore a pale yellow dress with white polka dots and swayed her hips back and forth.

Hubert kept to his training, but the sweat that began dripping from his forehead showed just what kind of effect the woman had on him. Marianne decided to have mercy on him and yelled, “Hu, you’re off duty.”

“Are you sure?” Hubert stared at her with wide eyes, confusion reigning in the air around him.

“Yeah,” added Bog with a laugh. “Both of ye, eat lunch and take a break.”It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Uh,” Hubert swallowed and turned his attention to the woman who batted her long eyelashes at him and ran a finger over her lips, whispering something. “Urm, uh.”

“Hubert,” snapped Marianne. “Socialize.”

“Yes, ma’am,” stammered Hubert, giving the woman a nervous smile.

“You can eat at our table,” she said with a laugh, gesturing to a picnic table on the colored side of the courtyard. Hubert nodded and said nothing, following her to the buffet table serving their side.

Marianne grinned, glancing at Bog as he stuffed a deviled egg into his mouth. He appeared in better spirits, and her food looked even more appetizing—and she didn’t have any red jelly cubes sitting in her gravy.

#

“Right here?” Bog glanced at Marianne as he drove down a busy street.

“Next right,” said Marianne, consulting the slip of paper. “Right, Maggie?” She glanced over the seat at the young woman sitting next to a very shy looking Hubert.

“Yes, we’re going the right way,” she replied with a flirtatious giggle aimed at Hubert.

Marianne smirked and looked ahead. Hubert and Lincoln would not allow them to leave without them, so Marianne recommended they find a date. Maude suggested Maggie would be perfect to take them to their destination—Tiana’s Palace. 

Maggie had spent the entire day flirting with Hubert and hitting on him, something Marianne knew he wasn’t accustomed to. Like most of her father’s guards, Hubert saw to his job seriously, and it got in the way of relationships. Because he and Lincoln were among the youngest guards, they had the most pressure on them. Lincoln didn’t find anyone he was interested in inviting and volunteered to be the one doing the ‘real work’, which brought on an annoyed look from Hubert. Marianne cut in before they began arguing, and she and Bog ended up with two shadows again.

“There it is!” Maggie pointed as they turned down a busy street near the riverfront. A grand two-story building rose between a pair of hotels, dominating the street. Tiana’s Palace glowed above the entrance in green. Cars lined up in front of it, letting out their passengers into a crowd of people dressed up for dinner. 

Bog groaned, slowing to wait for an opening. “I told Maude we wanted a nice, quiet place.” Music came from the building, and the people in line jostled each other, a few dancing while others laughed and talked. There were so many people. Bog glanced at Marianne, dreading what he would see.

“Oh, let’s give it a try.” Marianne met his eyes and smiled. That was good enough. Bog nodded, giving his wife a playful leer. She wore the same dress she had for Mardi Gras with the body chains neatly arranged over her shoulders and hips. He had dressed up in a black suit with a matching black Newsboy cap. He didn’t care if it went with the outfit or not—he liked the way it looked.

Hubert and Lincoln wore nice, new vests over their shirts and similar hats. Overall, they looked like any other group of people and would blend in without a problem. Valets in matching uniforms walked up and down the line of cars, attending to those that needed to be parked. Bog rolled down his window, having been given instructions by Maude.

“Bogdan King,” said Bog. “I was told ye’d have a specific place for me to park?”

“Aye, absolutely,” replied the valet with a grin. He pulled out a red card with gold lettering and handed it to him. “Go around the corner, and there’s a small parking lot fer VIPs. Show yer card, and they’ll let ye in, then ye park anywhere ye want.”

Bog grinned, recognizing the accent. Something about hearing someone else he didn’t know talking like his father brought a flare of joy through him. He took the card and nodded. “Thank ye.”

“Ooh, I’ve never been here with VIPs!” Maggie squirmed excitedly in her seat. “I came here once with Maude for lunch, but this is different. We’re gonna have so much fun!”

Bog smirked, catching Hubert’s uncertain expression in the rearview mirror. He drove the car around the corner as instructed and showed his card to the attendant, who motioned him inside a well-lit parking lot with only a dozen spaces.

“VIPs?” Marianne chuckled as Lincoln helped her out of the car, bowing to make sure her dress didn’t get caught on anything.

“Very important persons,” said Maggie quickly.

“Maude.” Bog groaned from the other side of the car. “I told her we wanted to be like anyone else, and being a ‘Very Important Person’ isn’t what we wanted. I feel like turning around and going home.”

“We are already here.” Marianne danced around the car, smacking into Bog and grabbing his arm. “Let’s have dinner and listen to the music.” She glanced at the guards and Maggie. “And I do not want to see you until we leave, got that, Hu? Link?”

“Yes, ma’am.” They bowed, affirming their arrangement for the evening.

“Okay, let’s hope the VIP ends here,” said Bog with a sigh, holding his arm out to Marianne. She grinned, taking his arm so they could walk hand in hand through the open doors at one end of the parking lot. 

The moment they passed through the doors, a young man and woman greeted them. Again, attention Bog did not desire, but he attempted to be civil. The pair were dark-skinned, the man lighter, closer to Hubert’s skin tone with styled black hair, and dressed in a cream suit. The woman was much darker and wore a stunning red dress and ornate headdress. “Ah, you must be Bog and Marianne,” said the man giving them a broad, inviting smile, holding a hand out to Bog. “I am Prince Naveen of the Kingdom of Maldonia.”

“Navee.” The woman next to him groaned. “Stop introducin’ yourself as a king. Nobody cares about that.”

“I care about that!” Naveen glanced at her, his hand still out. “This beautiful woman is Queen Tiana.”

“Bogdan King of the Dark Woods,” Bog took his hand, “and my wife, Queen Marianne of the really brightly lit fields.” He squeezed hard. Marianne jabbed him in the side and gave him a dirty look. “Oof. Seriously, woman, ye could stomp on my foot or something new,” he said with a growl and a playful smirk.

Marianne gave him a rueful look, then turned to Tiana with a smile. “Just Marianne is fine. We don’t want any special treatment.” She sighed. “Please.”

“Oh, but Maude arranged for you to have a night you’ll never forget.” There was a twinkle in Tiana’s eyes as she turned, gesturing for them to follow. “And I am not letting a good friend down, plus, it’s not often,” her voice lowered to a whisper, “we have visitin’ royalty.”

Bog looked to Marianne, and they shared a concerned look. Why did they keep talking like they knew who they actually were? Something was disconcerting about this entire situation, especially if Maude told anyone about them. There were rules, and the biggest rule was keeping their secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danaknowsitall: Hey, you know what, you're in New Orleans. You could do a Princess and the Frog Cameo with Naveen and Tiana.  
> Me: ... not my favorite Disney movie... seen it once....   
> Me a month later: Well, I'm DOING THIS!  
> Chapter 21: HOW ARE WE STILL AT TIANA'S PALACE??!?!?!?!??!?!  
> :D You are going to love this! I LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!


	13. The King and Queen of New Orleans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naveen and Tiana have a surprise for Bog and Marianne, one which they're not entirely certain about.

The lights reminded Marianne of home and some of her favorite celebrations when she was a child. While those memories had dulled over the last few years because of Roland, now the joy and excitement returned. She had loved dancing, festivals, and parties so much more before Roland, and now, with Bog, she could love them again.

But the way Tiana spoke did concern her. Something else was going on, and it piqued her curiosity more than triggered any warnings. She trusted her instincts, and they told her that Tiana and Naveen were gracious hosts and Maude had arranged something special for them. She was Bog’s niece, so leaving and not seeing what she had planned would be rude.

They walked past tables of couples and small groups of couples, chatting and laughing, perusing their menus, and sipping wine from crystal glasses. But they didn’t stop at any of the empty tables, instead walking into a small hall near the stage. Tiana pushed a curtain aside to show a door behind it with a name plaque bearing Tiana’s name. She beckoned them to follow as she opened the door.

On the other side, there was a small dressing room and a vanity. It was much too small to fit everyone, and Marianne looked around, confused for the moment, a look that was mirrored on her husband’s face. Then Tiana pulled the curtain at the side of the room, revealing yet another door. This one was a work of art, carved from a deep red wood and inset with stained glass depicting a forest scene. A row of glass windows covered the wall above the door.

“Welcome to the Secret Bayou,” said Tiana with a smile, opening the door with a flourish. Light seemed to flood through the opening, and a set of steps went down onto a stone path that appeared before them instead of polished wood flooring. Bog and Marianne stepped through the door after Tiana and Naveen, with Hubert, Lincoln, and Maggie trailing them.

The room was spacious, with windows looking out over the river. There was a small couch on one side, sitting on mossy ground. Next to it was a coffee table with a bowl of water and a bowl of mixed candy. An identical door to the one they had just walked through was in the wall opposite the couch. There were archways carved into the bottom of the door, gilded in gold—miniature recreations of the larger door’s frame.

But that wasn’t what drew Marianne’s attention, or everyone else’s. They all stopped and stared at the floor in the center of the room. A perfect fairy circle made up of tall pink and white mushrooms rose from the mossy ground. Marianne looked at Bog and giggled. His mouth was agape in surprise, a bewildered expression on his face.

“Maude thought you would enjoy spending Valentine’s Day together,” said Tiana with a grin, “more like yourselves.” Half a dozen fairies appeared from beneath the door, flying in to land just outside the fairy circle. “They’ll take care of you. Maude, let us know your general sizes, and we should have clothing for you.”

“You’re fairies?” Marianne turned her gaze to them.

“L’habit ne fait pas le moine,” said Naveen with a smug grin.

“He’s trying to be funny,” Tiana rolled her eyes and gave a little sigh, “He said don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Bog said nothing, still gaping at the fairy circle, then the fairies. Marianne laughed. “I don’t think this is what Bog had planned for tonight, but meeting fairies that live here sounds like fun.”

“Navee and I will be up in half an hour.” Tiana put her hand on her husband’s shoulder, trying to push him out of the way.

“And there will be dancing and music! So much music!” exclaimed Naveen with a laugh. He shifted away from his wife, leaning toward Bog to add in a whisper, “and we even have a place for you to spend the night for some ooh la la. Faire l’amour.”

Bog jerked upright like a bolt of lightning had struck him, his face turning red as he looked at Marianne, then the two guards standing near her attempting to pretend like they hadn’t heard that, the corners of their mouths turned up in amused smirks.

Marianne’s cheeks turned bright red, more at Bog’s embarrassment than her own. She had studied French as a child and knew what Naveen said. Bog, however, most likely did not know the language and reacted more to Naveen’s very suggestive body language and the way he said it.

“Stop that, Navee, they are our guests.” Tiana pushed up against her husband, pushing him bodily to the door as he laughed and leaned back against her, winking. “Seriously, you keep sayin’ you’re a king, but you have a hard time actin’ like one.”

“Prince of amour,” chuckled Naveen, looking over his shoulder and waggling his eyebrows at Tiana. She groaned and gave him a final unamused look, pushing him to the door. “Abyssinia!”

“You are in the presence of a king,” hissed Tiana as the door opened.

“I’ve been in the presence of a king my whole life,” Naveen stepped through the door, his voice still carrying a mirthful tone, “Papa.”

“Yes, and he disowned you for a whole year. Arrête de te la péter.” The door closed with Tiana’s final words. Music filled the air, coming from the restaurant as they looked at each other, then the fairies waiting for them in the soft moss.

“It’s okay.” Maggie stepped into the circle with a grin. “Tiana has the ability to pick out fairies masquerading as humans. You don’t know how much of a relief it is to be alone, and then someone walks in and pulls you aside and tells you where you can meet other fairies. We tend to gravitate to each other anyway, but it’s hard to tell without help.”

Marianne nodded, glancing at Bog. He had a curious look on his face, and she wondered if he had thought the same that she had. Tiana would have known Lucien was a fairy if he met him, and it sounded like she had, but she didn’t tell Maude. Maggie stepped out of the ring, and in a flash, she was gone, replaced by a much smaller version in a flowing pale yellow gown. 

Marianne and Bog stepped forward together, with Bog wrapping an arm around her shoulders, his other removing his staff from the necklace. They were in, then out in a similar flash, with Bog gripping her tight, using his wings so they landed in the moss upright, the extra cloaks they had put on still draped over their bodies.

“There’s a trick to it,” said Bog, glancing back as Lincoln and Hubert followed. A moment later, they joined them, still dressed in their armor and furs. “Ye will always be in the air once ye step out, so use yer wings.” The two guards faltered and almost landed in the moss on their faces but corrected in time to touch down awkwardly.

“If you’ll follow us, King Bog, Queen Marianne,” said one of the fairies that had come from under the door. “We have outfits for you that we’re sure you’ll love.” He gestured for them to follow, and Marianne grabbed Bog’s arm, pulling him forward. 

Oh, how pleasant it was to feel his familiar arm in hers, to see his towering form once again exactly how she was accustomed to it. The human version was good, but she had missed his fairy form and how well she fit at his side. Bog’s wings rustled nervously, and Marianne squeezed his arm. Another thing she missed—his wings.  
#

Bog marveled at the fact he could pass through the doorways without a problem. He didn’t have to duck or turn to walk through them. The fairies who greeted them were all Soliel. At least he assumed they were Soliel. They were different races, and he wasn’t sure which ones they were since he had never been interested in studying them. None of them appeared to be like Marianne.

On the other side of the door, there was another room, this one set up with what appeared to be little homes built in tiers. Fairies frolicked overhead, including children who were racing up and down the stairs and platforms. Music from the restaurant could still be heard through the walls.

They walked into a small shop, very much like any other dress shop in Marianne’s kingdom. Bog had to duck this time to enter the shop, then found himself besieged by a couple of fairy women with measuring tape. He stumbled back against a rack of clothes and stared at them as though they had sprouted tentacles in place of arms.

Humans walking up to him was one thing—fairy women touching him was another. He expected respect from fairies, far more than from humans because that was just what he was accustomed to. “What?” He blinked at them, watching as Marianne was ushered off by a different pair of fairies, talking to them excitedly. They disappeared in the back of the shop.

“You’re a tall one,” said one of the fairies, fluttering up with one end of the measuring tape.

“Come with us. We have the perfect vest for you,” added the other with a giggle.

Bog looked at them, horrified at their words. Vest? Clothes? Were they going to try to make him wear something over his armor? Wearing the fur cloak was one thing—it was cold and provided warmth. It had a reason. Something else over his armor didn’t make sense.

“Uh, I’m fine,” protested Bog, shakily moving away from the pair. “I do not need to wear anything more than I am.” A shriek pierced the room, coming from where Marianne had gone. Bog snarled, flaring his wings and plates, ready to do battle, and then giddy laughter followed.

The two fairies stared at him, then motioned to another door. “Would you like to match your wife? We took a lot of time on her dress and your vest.”

“It’s in the current style for Dragonfae and goes over your armor,” said the second. 

Bog froze and looked from one fairy to the other, tilting his head in shock. “There are other Dragonfae here?”

“Oh, yes! There are a dozen Dragonfae who call the Palace home.” The first replied, “And they are upstairs right now, so we need to get you dressed.”

Dragonfae.

Fairies like him.

“Okay,” Bog said in a daze, staring at the door. If there were Dragonfae here, then he wanted to look like them, not stand out. 

The pair of fairies led him to the back of the shop and into a dressing room, where they had his outfit waiting for him. He followed in a stupor, letting them measure him all around, then they helped him dressed and made quick adjustments.

Dragonfae.

What would they be like?

“What do you think?” One of the women tugged on his arm, turning him to look in a mirror. Bog had been so deep in thought--he hadn’t paid attention to anything. He blinked, taken aback by his reflection. Usually, he avoided mirrors because he didn’t like being reminded about how different he looked.

Red cloth rested around his standard collar, trimmed in shining gold embroidery. They had dusted his collar with shimmering gold dust, and it was also on his face and every exposed part of his body. Bog lifted his arms, turning his hands over to examine them. He wasn’t sure what to think about shining like an actual piece of jewelry.

The vest was open at the shoulders, red with designs like fire embroidered over half of it. He turned, watching his reflection as the garment wrapped around his legs. It went past his knees and hung loose. Three gold ropes fastened it over his chest, and then it opened over his torso. A flap of red cloth ran from his neck, beneath the vest, covering his body down to his knees, even with the vest.

Who was this in the mirror? Bog stared, then began touching the fabric, smoothing it in awe. It couldn’t have been longer than fifteen minutes, and in that little bit of time, these two fairies had transformed him into someone else entirely.

Bog’s wings trembled, making a soft rasping sound as he turned and examined how the garment fit. It was made for a Dragonfae, that was easy to see. Everything fit perfectly and wouldn’t hamper his ability to fly. He retrieved his staff from where he had set it against a wall and posed, leaning against it.

“What do you think?” both of the women asked, standing nearby, awaiting an answer.

Bog turned to them with a gracious style, bowing to them, then rising to gesture to the vest. “It’s lovely?” What did he know about fashion? This was the best he had ever looked, and he couldn’t wait to show it to Marianne and also to see what they had done to her. 

“Good, because you look amazing,” tittered one of the women, motioning to the door.

“Your wife will take a little longer,” added the other. Bog nodded, stepping through the door and back into the shop. The women followed him to join the others outside. Maggie stood next to Hubert and Lincoln. 

The moment Bog stepped outside, their eyes landed on him, and a wave of self-conscious anxiety struck him full in the chest. Were they looking at him and making judgments? Was it his imagination that he felt good, and the two women were humoring him.

Bog joined them, setting his staff onto the stones with a loud clang. Nonsense. He looked good—like a king. And in a few minutes, he would be joined by his queen for an evening celebrating their love.

They didn’t wait long before the door opened, and more giggling fairies joined them. Bog had his back to the door and lifted his wings as Marianne called out to him, “Hey, who’s that? He looks good.” He knew the smile that spread over his face was ridiculous as a flash of heat rippled through his chest, radiating from his heart.

Then he turned, expecting to counter with something smart. Instead, every thought left his head, vanishing into a cloud of emotion. Marianne was beautiful, no matter what she wore, but at this moment, she took his breath away, ripping it straight out of his lungs.

Marianne floated to him, her wings carrying her effortlessly, only they weren’t the wings he was accustomed to seeing. The same gold dust that had been brushed over him had also been applied to Marianne, and it coated her wings, changing their color. Instead of blue, they were a golden red, reflecting the color of her dress.

And what a dress it was. Bog stared at Marianne because there was no other acceptable action. The dress was the same color as Bog’s vest with a Grecian neckline that left her arms and shoulders bare. The red fabric clung to her upper body, hips, and waist, flaring out just enough to allow her to walk at the knees. Then he noticed a slit up the left side, which showed off her shapely leg and the red slippers she wore.

A swirl of golden embroidery, mimicking flames with roses mixed in among them, started on her right shoulder and swept around her left hit. It reappeared on the lower right side of the gown. Rubies glimmered in the roses, and there were more decorating bracelets on her wrists. Heart-shaped gems adorned the collar around her neck, and a chain diadem hung down the center of her forehead.

Bog swallowed, shifting nervously as she turned in front of him, showing how the dress allowed her to move more than it initially appeared. Every inch of Marianne gleamed and glowed, reflecting the light. A few oohs and ahhs rose from the gathered fairies—as well as the fairies watching from their homes up above.

“Speechless?” Marianne stopped, and her gown swished around her legs. She gave Bog that look, oh, that astonishingly inflaming look, her eyes with their dark eyeshadow fixed on him, half-closed, smoldering. And her mouth opened, her tongue sliding beneath her upper lip as she added in a husky, amorous tone, “Ready to celebrate, Boggy?” Then she blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and somehow gave him an even more seductive smile, the corner of her lip curling the smile into a tantalizing smirk.

He didn’t bother to correct her, ready to fall into her eyes and spend the rest of the night there. Instead, he nodded slowly, his wings rising behind him into a full flare of excitement, the tips twitching.

“Lead the way.” Marianne glanced at the other fairies, then stepped forward, reaching out to touch Bog’s chin, gently using her fingers to motion for him to lean down. He obeyed without hesitation and sighed as their lips met in a far too brief kiss.

If they’d been at home, he would have forgone the dinner and whatever else was planned and just scooped her up and carried her off to someplace private. Bog sighed, pushing his desires aside, Naveen’s words about a room available to them echoing through the back of his mind.

“This way!” A fairy motioned for them to follow, and Marianne wrapped her arms around Bog’s, leaning against him as they walked.

“I love you so much, Bog,” she whispered.

“I couldn’t love anyone more, Marianne,” he responded, leaning over to kiss the top of her head as they walked. There was nothing that could possibly top his love for his wife. If there was, his heart would not be able to take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I like dressing Bog and Marianne up?  
> Yes. Yes, I do.  
> Sorry, I'm working on my websites and it's a grueling chore... :( :(


	14. Dinner Among Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night proceeds with dinner ABOVE Tiana's Palace.

Marianne knew Bog hadn’t wanted all the attention they were receiving, but she liked it—reveled in it. It had been so long since she enjoyed an event like this and when she saw the dress, she realized why. In her kingdom, she couldn’t have real fun. She was there because she was forced to be there. At Tiana’s Palace, she was a welcomed guest, and she had never had that experience before. 

The small group of fairies escorted them to a large sliding door set into the interior wall. “This is going to be different,” said Maggie, hauling her Hubert inside a small rectangular room and into a gilded cage. The heavily armored guard stumbled after her and looked around nervously. “This is an elevator.” Maggie wrapped her arms around Hubert’s, running her fingers up and down the upraised, leaf vein designs. “It takes us to the roof to the Secret Garden.”

Marianne examined the cage curiously, then stepped inside with her reluctant husband in tow. He scowled and twitched his wings but said nothing as the door slid shut. A moment later, the entire room lurched, and Marianne pressed herself to Bog, their wings shaking at the unusual motion. It was unsettling, but since Maggie and the escorting fairies didn’t appear bothered, they waited. Still, Marianne breathed fast, her heart racing at the fact that they were trapped in a moving box.

“The gate is to make sure nobody gets a wing, or any clothing stuck in the crevice,” said Maggie, waving to the front of the room. There was nothing between them and the wall as they moved up. Marianne nodded, imagining a poor, unfortunate fairy getting stuck there. The wing would have been torn, possibly right out of their back. She cringed against Bog, and he pulled her close, his hand around her waist, secure and comforting.

Bog began gently pressing his fingers into her side, one at a time, caressing her. It was the perfect distraction. Marianne half closed her eyes, smiling at the affectionate touch. She looked up at him, smiling, and he smiled back, one of his sweet, shy smiles with desire burning in his eyes. Marianne looked away, biting her lower lip. It was fair. He could drive her crazy with a single look as easily as she did it to him.

The elevator came to a jarring stop, and when it did, it shook. Lincoln squeaked in a very high pitched voice, and giggles and laughter filled the room at his expense. “I’m trapped in a cage with no way out,” he huffed, attempting to save face.

“Oh, if anything bad happened, there’s a hatch in the top,” said one of the other fairies, pointing up. “We could all fly out easy enough.”

The door to the floor slid open, then one of their escorts opened the cage door. “King Bog, Queen Marianne.” He stepped aside, bowing, gesturing for them to leave first. Bog took a deep breath and stepped forward with Marianne on his arm.

How long had it been since she entered a room, knowing everyone would be looking at her—at them. Because Bog did not like attention and made it clear he didn’t, they had never entered any festival or ballroom with anyone expecting them. There was never an announcement or anything to put them in any type of spotlight. Marianne was fine with avoiding spectacle because it made her husband uncomfortable—among fairies. 

Among his people, it was a completely different matter. Bog loved to parade among his subjects with her at his side as they gave her the proper respect he demanded. He wanted her honored and revered, not himself, not at any point. Everything was always about pleasing her because he was still ashamed about what he had done over the last decade. This would be a great time to show him he was still a king and worthy.

Two of their escorts rushed ahead, but they said nothing, simply clearing the way for Bog and Marianne to walk into what appeared to be a massive patio. Flowering plants rose around them, and ivy climbed on wires over them, obscuring them from anyone seeing them from above. Tubular shaped light bulbs lit the patio, providing light for a number of fairies enjoying the evening, dining, and socializing. There were tables set up in the center area, at least a dozen of them, of varying sizes. As they walked, Marianne spotted more tables scattered into the garden.

The moment they stepped into view, every fairy within sight rose and bowed, but they said nothing. When Bog and Marianne passed, they sat back down, but did not resume taking immediately. Marianne glanced at Bog, who had his face set forward, walking where directed, ignoring the fairies paying them respect. They ended up in a small private alcove with a table for two. It was decorated just as nicely as the tables in Tiana’s main restaurant with a pair of waiters standing nearby, one holding a wine bottle, another a pitcher of ice water.

Lincoln stopped at the entrance as Bog politely pulled a chair out for Marianne, then pushed it in, careful of her dress. He took his place, eyeing the fairies standing nearby. “Hu, Lincoln, go away,” he said flatly. “We don’t need ye watching us so close.”

“We’re fine,” added Marianne. “It’s just like we’re at home.”

“But we’re not. We’re in another king and queen’s kingdom, a king and queen we know nothing about,” said Lincoln seriously, remaining where he stood.

Marianne tapped her fingers on the table as the waiters stood by, waiting. “I want you out of my sight. Both of you.” The pair stared at them, then bowed in unison. They turned and stiffly walked away. Maggie followed Hubert, talking to him, and he drifted out of sight. Lincoln hesitated, watching them go before heading in the opposite direction.

“Will you be having the mild course or the hot course,” inquired one of the waiters as he began filling a water glass.

Marianne grinned at Bog, and he grinned back, his crooked teeth on display. “Hot course,” they said together, then laughed. 

“If it’s too much for you, we’ll switch out the bowls,” said the second waiter, filling their glasses with a deep purple wine that smelled of berries, ginger, and cloves. Marianne lifted her glass, smiling at Bog over it as he held his out to her.

“To us,” said Bog, tilting his glass toward hers.

“To us,” repeated Marianne, tapping her glass against his. They sipped, then sat back in their chairs, setting their drinks down. They might finish the fairy wine by the evening or might not. Even though the flavor was delicious, getting the least amount of tipsy was not appropriate. After all, they were in the home of fairies they did not know.

#

Heavily spiced foods were Bog’s favorite. When you lived in a place that wasn’t good for any kind of farming-- foraging and hunting were your only options. You were not picky about what you hunted or ate, and Bog typically did not tell Marianne what they were eating when they had meals, and she had learned not to ask. Goblins ate everything, and their favorite food was very much like what ended up on the table in front of them.

A stew.

The waiters told them a little about each dish, but basically, it was a stew they called gumbo delivered in a wide bowl, steaming and hot. Bog and Marianne listened to the waiters list the ingredients, fresh-caught shrimp, andouille sausage, chicken, red and green bell peppers, jalapenos, tomatoes, onions, okra, and an array of secret spices. It was served with red beans and rice, a slab of golden bread called cornbread, butter, and milk. The gumbo was the same as what was served in the restaurant down below, with the only difference being that the ingredients were cut down to fairy size.

Nobody bothered them, at least for the first part of their meal. They were halfway through when Naveen and Tiana stepped in for their promised visit. The pair of them arrived in the same style of clothing they had worn as humans. Only now, they had wings, which were unlike any wings Bog had ever seen in his life. They had a strange feathery quality to them, and Tiana walked on her toes, her wings radiating with a golden light. Whatever she was, Naveen appeared to have in him too, but not as much.

“How are you enjoyin’ your meal?” Tiana inquired politely, an arm wrapped around her grinning husband’s arm. 

“It’s good,” said Bog, sipping from his glass of milk.

“So hot.” Marianne fanned her mouth, her face red from the spices. “But I can’t stop eating it. It’s so delicious.”

“The cornbread and milk help the heat.” Tiana folded her arms in front of her, and Naveen chuckled. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Perhaps when you finish, we dance,” said Naveen, his attention on Marianne. “I’ve never danced with a queen before, well, who wasn’t Maman.” 

“Of course.” Marianne sipped her milk. “I’d be happy to dance with you, Naveen. It’s a traditional request.” Bog nodded in agreement. She didn’t have to ask him permission, and he didn’t need to give it. Kings and queens often danced together per tradition to show trust. It meant nothing personal.

“I’m going to assume you’re not going to ask.” Tiana laughed, motioning to Bog, who had his eyes on his food, completely ignoring the conversation. “So, I will ask. Will you dance with me, King Bog?”

Bog choked on the cornbread he had just taken a bite of. They didn’t both have to dance, and he didn’t want to ask Tiana. It was bold of her to ask him, but since when did he say No to a bold woman? Bog grabbed his glass of milk and cleared his throat, then coughed, “Yes. Sorry about that, but yes.” Marianne giggled and touched his leg with her foot beneath the table. From the feel of it, she had taken her shoes off.

“I look forward to it, ma cherie,” Naveen bowed to Marianne, giving her a flirtatious smile, which did not sit well with Bog. He pursed his lips, turning his attention to his wife. Marianne’s face was still red from the spicy food, but there was a little more pink from Naveen’s attention.

“We’ll look for you later in the evenin’,” said Tiana, taking her husband’s hand. “We have other patrons to see to, and we have to split our time between the diners.”

“Thank you for the lovely dinner,” Marianne said with a smile. 

“We’re happy to entertain royal guests.” Tiana bowed, and Naveen followed the gesture. “I know your stay will be brief, but we would like to invite you back in the future for a longer stay.”

“We’ll talk about it.” Marianne looked at Bog, who nodded, forcing an uneasy smile. “Perhaps you can visit us in our kingdom.”

“We would love to.” Tiana took a few steps back, pulling Naveen with her. “Enjoy your dinner, and we’ll talk later.”

Bog waited for them to leave before saying anything. There was no reason to be angry with Naveen. He trusted Marianne. Jealousy was unnecessary and foolish. It would only cause problems, but still, Bog didn’t like how freely Naveen flirted. Bog sighed, staring at his dinner.

“What’s bothering you?” Marianne stirred her gumbo, smiling patiently. “Let’s talk. You were enjoying yourself.”

“I don’t like other men talking to you like that,” he muttered his reply, ashamed to admit it but knowing he should. “It bothers me.”

“I have a suspicion Naveen does that to every woman, and it doesn’t mean anything more than his way of making me feel welcome.” Marianne leaned on the table, smiling at Bog as she ran her toes up and down his leg, a move that eased away the negative feelings. “It’s just him. I don’t think he’s trying to make you angry or seriously hitting on me. Tiana seems used to it.”

“Marianne, my love, it’s okay.” Bog reached for his wine. “I don’t like it, but I know I have no reason to feel that way. I trust you.”

“That’s right.” Marianne nodded, then tilted her head at him. “Because I love you, and only you, Bog.”

Bog’s appetite returned, and he nodded back to Marianne. Naveen was just being himself, and Bog wasn’t used to him. That was all. He shouldn’t entertain any jealous feelings because he had no reason to be threatened by Naveen. Marianne loved him, and he loved her.

Most importantly, he trusted her with his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh.. such a nice, yummy dinner. Just a little fluffiness.  
> I'm having a very awful day, so I hope yours is good. :D


	15. The Lone King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An anxious Bog comes face to face with fairies like himself.

Marianne stared at their dessert, delighted by the strong smell of rum, bread, raisins, and sugar. They served it in a single dish with two spoons and a scoop of vanilla ice cream, saying it was bread pudding. Bog looked at the dish curiously, pressing his spoon into the gooey bread mixture. “Yer in for a treat. This is ice cream.”

“The desserts here are so much better than home.” Marianne tried a small bite and tilted her chin into the air, closing her eyes at just how good it was. It had the perfect texture, soft, with bits of diced raisin, and the rum gave it a strange but pleasant warm feeling in her stomach. Then there was the cold ice cream mixing with it, topping it off with divine flavor. 

“It’s because they have butter and milk.” Bog chewed slowly, then went for more. “And it’s good for ye.”

“I’m going to miss this when we go home.” Marianne sighed.

“Now that ye know, we can make regular visits to the human world,” said Bog, reaching out to lay a hand on hers. “Would ye like that? I used to spend my winters with my family because there’s nothing much to do in the winter. We could travel if ye’d like. We can even go overseas to warmer places. See the world.”

Marianne gave it a little thought. Seeing places that were not anywhere near home was intriguing—and terrifying. She preferred her wings to being human size. That, and while she was having a good time right now, the human world had a dark side that didn’t exist in her kingdom or Bog’s. There was so much suffering.

She didn’t realize her smile had vanished until Bog’s nails caressed her cheek. She tilted her head and gave him a thin-lipped smile, looking into his concern filled blue eyes. “We do not have to go anywhere, love,” whispered Bog. “I just want to give ye a little adventure.”

“Life is an adventure.” Marianne laid her hand over his. “And being able to walk around outside during the winter is something I look forward to when Dad is still forbidding me from telling everyone about our Winter Metamorphosis.”

Bog smiled, gazing into her eyes. “I will think of something fun for us to do next winter. Perhaps we will spend it here in New Orleans with Maude or go to other cities in the country. New York is supposed to be stunning or Florida, or we can leave the country and go into the Caribbean where it’s good and hot for ye.”

“I think I’d like to spend Christmas with your family and get to know them,” Marianne said, scraping the last few bits of bread pudding out of its pretty scalloped dish. It had been so delicious--it was gone before she realized how much she’d eaten while they talked. “They are my family too.”

“Thank you.” Bog pushed his half-finished bowl in front of her, setting his spoon into his plate. “Why don’t ye finish this off for me, love.”

“Gladly!” Marianne laughed, taking his bowl without hesitation. He didn’t enjoy sugary food, and she never questioned his offerings when it involved anything sweet. Now, meat, if Bog offered her the last of something with meat in it that was sweet, she declined. Even though he wanted her to have it—meat was his preference, sweet, spiced, or plain.

Bog shifted back, running a hand over his stomach. “That was good. I guess we sit for a few minutes, then visit with the other fairies? There are supposed to be Dragonfae here, and I would like to meet them.”

“Fairies like you?” Marianne inquired before taking a big bite of Bog’s bread pudding. “We should definitely look for them. I wonder what they’re like.”

“I wonder the same,” admitted Bog, twining his fingers on the table top. He stared at his hands, then reached for his half-full glass of wine. “I don’t know what to expect.” He tipped the glass and finished it quickly.

Marianne watched him thoughtfully. It didn’t take much to see he was nervous about the prospect. Bog was the only one of his kind at home, a lone king who didn’t even rule his own race. She could see it written across his face--meeting more Dragonfae was both something he wanted and dreaded. Whatever happened, she would be there when it happened. 

#

The Secret Garden appeared to be a place that the resident fairies enjoyed as a place they could be themselves. Dinner was served freely in the section they had eaten in, but there were families in other areas eating their regular evening meal. Bog and Marianne wandered through wide open halls set beneath a covering of ivy, light provided by tube-shaped light bulbs.

They followed the sound of music and came out of a hallway to see a dance floor with a band of fairies playing a lively Jazz tune. Bog smirked, and Marianne giggled, spotting Hubert dancing with Maggie. He was impossible to miss—the only fairy dressed in gleaming green armor. He appeared to be having a good time with her, laughing and smiling as they danced.

Lincoln was nowhere to be seen but was likely behind them. The guards were trained to remain out of sight, and they usually did a good job of it. His armor, while shiny, wouldn’t stand out among all the green leaves and grass around them. Bog stopped, feeling Marianne’s wings rise behind them with excitement, brushing his relaxed wings. The strange dancing looked similar to how the goblins danced at home.

He stood watching them for a few minutes, the music hitting him and vibrating through his body. It was thrilling, listening to the wild notes of their strange instruments as even the band moved in time with their music. They weren’t anything like the fairies at home, and … Bog blinked, focusing on a tall, heavyset fairy handling a tiny trumpet. 

That fairy wasn’t a Soleil like the others. He was a huge Naiad, a water fae, towering over the Soleil and dominating the stage. Bog stared, awed by his skill. He didn’t move until the musician got to the end of the song and sat down to take a break. 

A Naiad. 

Marianne squeezed his arm, and he jumped, then have her a reassuring smile. “Bog.” She tugged on his arm, turning him to look near the edge of the roof as the dancers continued dancing to a slow song. 

Sitting in a circle of chairs and comfortable couches were a dozen Dragonfae and a few Naiads. They were engaged in conversation, laughing and talking fast, their voices riding over the music. A pile of shrimp shells sat in a basket next to their shared table. A pair of full-sized shrimp sat on the table, and they were carving off slices and dipping them in a bowl of red sauce. 

There appeared to be six males with builds like his own, wearing leather armor and vests. The other six were females, and only two wore armor. All of them were dressed for the evening in red, pink, or gold. Only three were similar to Bog in skin color, the more drab grays, browns, and reds. The others were stunning—gleaming black, red, orange, and blue. 

And he stood, locked in place, unable to move toward them. They were having a good time, and he didn’t believe they needed to be interrupted by an awkward loner who wouldn’t even know what to say. Bog swallowed, his eyes locked on them, a tight sensation forming in his gut. The knot rose slowly, twisting and turning. He wanted to see them closer but turned, intending to go back into the garden where they could not see him, and he could not see them. 

“Bog!” Marianne snapped, both of her arms around his, jerking him so hard he fell toward her. She half dragged him away from the opening as he shook his head and flared his wings. 

“No,” he whispered, glancing at the Dragonfae. 

It was too late. 

Every single one of them were on their feet, clambering over the chairs and couches, their wings flared. Several chairs went down, and the Naiads followed. Bog stopped struggling, his wings falling limp, pressing to his back. He gave Marianne a dirty look, and she returned it with a pleased smile. “Go on, it’ll be fine.” 

Only it wasn’t. 

The Dragonfae advanced as one, their eyes wide as though in shock. Wings trembled, raised to their full extent, tips quivering. Then they went down as one, bowing low with their wings still upraised. One of the males lost his balance and landed on his face. The two closest to him dropped to their knees to assist him in getting into a submissive pose on his knees between them. 

“What?” Bog croaked in confusion. He waved his hands at them, rasping, “No! No! Get up! Don’t do that.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hubert approaching on one side and Lincoln from the other, their hands on their sword hilts.

“Yes, sir,” they said, rising as fast as they could, their attention focused on him with an eerie air. 

Marianne gaped, then glanced from Bog to the waiting Dragonfae. He scowled at her, mouthing, see what you did. Marianne shrugged, waving her hands first at Hubert, then Lincoln, motioning for them to stay back.

“Sir,” one of the black-armored Dragonfae stepped forward, bowing his head, “you are a king. We were told royalty would be visiting tonight—Dragonfae royalty. We’ve been waiting for you.” 

“What?” Bog took a step back, riding to his full height, wings rattling in alarm. “Why?” What did they want? 

“We wanted to ask you if we could join your colony.” The Dragonfae male lifted his eyes, and Bog stared. This male’s eyes were two different colors—one blue and one green. Bog had never seen anyone with mismatched eyes, and it was startling. 

“Isn’t this your colony?” Bog inquired, taken aback. 

“We live here,” said the female standing next to the forward male. “It is not our colony.” 

“I’m Dylan, and this is my mate, Judith,” he introduced himself, then the others began giving their names, which Bog didn’t hear. Blood roared in his ears, the request echoing. Why were they looking at him in a reverent way? They knew nothing about him.

“I’m sorry, but ye do not want to be in my colony. I am the only Dragonfae, and my people are goblins.” Bog cleared his throat and began explaining the situation. These Dragonfae were around his age, young. They did not deserve his life, stuck in a forest alone and not in a full colony like they assumed he ruled. “I’m sure there are better colonies for ye to join.” A look of despair hit every face in front of him, sinking Bog’s mood. He had just insulted his kingdom, and it was reflected in their eyes. It was better that he turned them away. 

“You are a powerful king,” started Dylan, speaking carefully. “You do not have any Dragonfae in your kingdom. We need a king. We are all highborn, but we are orphans or were thrown out of our colonies for being different.” Dylan pointed at his right eye. “My eyes are fine. My head is clear, and I’m strong. We are all hard workers. We would serve you with our lives, and we are not too proud to beg for a chance.” They bowed again, their heads low. “We are small in number, and I’ve done what I can, but we need to get out of New Orleans.” 

Bog frowned, the words hitting a part of him that he knew all too well. There were a dozen of them, but that was not enough to form a colony, especially if they had children. They were essentially alone, stranded among people who were not like them. 

“Bog,” whispered Marianne, pulling lightly on his arm. She had stood in silence until then, and Bog leaned toward her as she continued. “Why don’t you talk to them. We can ask Tiana and Naveen about them as well.” 

“I don’t know,” Bog admitted, keeping his voice low. “I wouldn’t know what to do with them. They are not goblins.” 

“You are trying to catch a wild child and bring her home with us, but you are going to turn your back on your own kind who are asking to follow you?” Marianne gave him a cross look, and Bog frowned. “We are different, and so are they. You and me, we’re different.” Bog nodded slowly. She was right. 

Bog sighed, turning to the group, who were still staring at the ground. Marianne was right, but his father’s words about what happened in their original colony erupted out of nowhere. They fought, and the kings and queens perished, then the humans came and destroyed their great tree. If he brought them back to the Dark Forest, would they eventually turn on him?

No, they shouldn’t. What happened to his father had occurred because the royals fought amongst each other. They plotted and schemed because there was some sickness among them that turned them against each other. It hadn’t been a healthy colony at that point.

These Dragonfae—they were lost and alone. They could be useful for his kingdom, company during the long cold months of winter. But he needed to talk to them, and Marianne had to agree with him. Bog sighed again, tapping the butt of his staff on the ground.

“Let’s talk. Tell me about yerselves. How many of ye are there?” He motioned to where they had been sitting and began walking with Marianne at his side.

“Twelve Dragonfae,” replied Dylan as the group split in half to allow Bog and Marianne through. Dylan fell into step next to him with Judith. “Five Naiads.”

“That is all? All of ye who are here right now?” Bog looked over his shoulder incredulously at Dylan. “None of ye have children?”

“Why would we doom children to this kind of existence?” It was Judith who answered, her voice full of sorrow. “Dragonfae in our situation would never allow ourselves to have children without a king to guide us.”

“You do not know a lot about your own people?” Dylan asked incredulously.

“I didn’t even know what I was a year ago.” Bog shook his head in dismay. The Naiads and Dragonfae rushed past him to right the chairs they had knocked over and stood by, waiting. 

“Please, sit here.” Dylan motioned to the biggest couch, and Bog settled down on it. Marianne sat next to him and smiled as Dylan took a step back. “I’m not being rude, but this is why your wife is a Soleil?”

“She is my wife because she’s astounding,” said Bog, not the least bit annoyed by the question when it allowed him to say how amazing his wife was. “A glorious warrior queen, my beloved Marianne.”

Dylan smiled at Marianne, bowing to her. “I was just curious. I didn’t mean anything negative. If you would be my queen, I pledge myself to you.”

“Yer pledging yerself to her, before me?” Bog smirked, amused.

“I would honor your wife by asking her first because she is not Dragonfae, but still your chosen, meaning she is exceptional and to be highly regarded.” Dylan remained bowed, not looking at Bog, explaining as though teaching, in a polite and patient manner.

“Sit down, Dylan.” Bog ordered. He was impressed with Dylan as the Dragonfae immediately backed away with Judith. How had he figured out this would gain his favor so fast? Or was it… Bog looked at his hands, eyes widening as he attempted to hide his reaction. Was this how Dragonfae were supposed to be? Dylan was showing him something he did not know.

“My kingdom is a forest, near a small town. We are secluded, and it is nothing like here.” Bog sat back, wiping the emotion from his face. “My wife’s kingdom, which she is not the queen of, but we freely pass through is a plain, ruled by her father. There is plenty of room for anyone who wants to live there, deep streams, ponds, and it is full of good hunting. But I must tell ye, I made errors…” Bog took a deep breath and began the long story of the things he had done. 

They had to know everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Bog needs... more people who are smarter than his goblins. :D :D


	16. His People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog and Marianne learn about their new people and accept their loyalty pledges, then attempt to spend their evening together dancing like any other couple.

Marianne tried to remain quiet and listen as Bog told his story as briefly as he could. On occasion, she interrupted when he began talking down about what he had done. She pointed out his situation, knowing his story well, when he left out the positive things he had accomplished. He made errors because he lacked guidance and thought what he was doing was right. Bog had been too young and angry when he took the throne.

The Dragonfae and Naiads listened with their full attention on Bog. If her husband thought he would turn them away with his story, he was wrong. The king who spoke to them now was a very different man than he had been, humbled and brought down by his experiences. He had risen from the ruins of his old life and began a new one, where he listened and changed. His people adored him, and at his core, he would be a good king going forward. Bog couldn’t see it, but the fairies in front of him could.

Other fairies gathered around as Bog told his story, including Tiana and Naveen. Marianne blushed when he got to the parts involving her because while he told her he loved her and how stunning she was, hearing it from him as a pivotal point in his life was different. Their strange courtship brought smiles to everyone’s faces. By the end, they were still smiling, and Bog looked confused.

“Ye still want to join my colony?” he asked incredulously, scanning their faces.

“If you would have us.” Dylan didn’t hesitate, and the others joined in, nodding their agreement.

Bog stared at them for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin line. Marianne leaned her head against his shoulder, whispering, “I don’t think you’re going to get rid of them easily.” He nodded, sighing, the look in his eyes revealing how difficult it was to accept this situation. 

“I’d join your colony,” said Tiana with a laugh, breaking the silence. Marianne smiled at the additional voice of support. “And I can vouch for the Dragonfae and Naiads who want to join you. They are all hard workers and do whatever they are asked without complaining.” Then she zeroed in on the inebriated Dragonfae who had fallen on his face earlier. “Except him. You have to keep an eye on him because he has fallen off the roof a couple of times, but when he isn’t drinking, he’s fine and a good teacher to the young ones.”

All eyes went to the called out Dragonfae, and he shrank in on himself in embarrassment, a pair of thick glasses sliding down his pointed nose. The Dragonfae female beside him put her arm around him and frowned. “Don’t pick on Milo--you know he would be different if we were in a colony.”

“Yes, which is why it’s good that they know he isn’t always like this.” Tiana kept her smile, motioning to Bog. “Because he isn’t making a very good impression right now, is he?”

“Milo’s father was a Lore Keeper,” Dylan began explaining, “and Milo was supposed to be trained to follow him, but another colony overran his colony, and they burned their library. The Keepers who were not killed fled. Milos’ father didn’t make it.”

“They-they said it was unnecessary, that we didn’t need a library,” Milo spoke, lifting his head to look at Bog. “I was there when they burned the library, and my father tried to stop them.”

“I like books,” said Bog, dumbly, and Marianne smiled, recognizing the look on his face. His sympathies were impossible to hide.

“We’ll talk about it,” added Marianne, “but I think we’ll need time to make room for you in our castle, then figure out how we’re going to expand.”

“Yes,” Bog nodded in agreement, “I will accept yer pledges, and we will welcome ye into our kingdom.”

“Thank you.” The Dragonfae and Naiads bowed low, their wings lying flat against their backs in a display of submission. “We pledge ourselves to King Bog and Queen Marianne.”

“We accept your pledge,” Bog and Marianne replied.

And it was done, a simple statement bringing with it new residents to their kingdom. The Dragonfae and Naiads rose, smiles on their faces, eyes shining with hope. Marianne looked forward to getting to know them. They were all fascinating.

#

His people.

They were his people, and they wanted to follow him?

Bog motioned for Dylan to come closer as he dismissed the others. “Ye know a lot more than I do, so maybe ye can help me with them?” Bog pulled Dylan aside as his wife walked up to Naveen and Tiana and began talking. “And maybe tell me what ye mean by me being a powerful king. I do not look that much different from any of ye.”

“It’s not something we see with our eyes,” Dylan explained, motioning to himself. “We instinctively know who should be in charge. It’s part of who we are as part of a colony. It prevents infighting, most of the time. They follow me because even though we are all high born, I am,” he paused, making a face as though the words were painful to say, “superior to them in every way. You are far more superior to all of us. We sense this, but you can not sense that we are weaker than you. Over time, we will become accustomed to it and not be overwhelmed.”

“Huh, it’s overwhelming?” Bog tilted his head at Dylan, curious to hear more. “This is part of being in a colony?”

“Yes, we are overwhelmed with the need to follow you.” Dylan grinned, showing off his fangs. “Every lone Dragonfae who comes across you will automatically follow you. We live to serve the colony in any way we can.” Dylan continued speaking eagerly, “You may not know it, but you are a strong king, far stronger than any king I’ve ever met, and I’ve met six.”

“You’ve attempted to get into six colonies?” Bog scowled, his brow wrinkling at the thought of other kings turning them away.

Dylan’s pale gray face lit up with red. He choked out a nervous laugh. “I, uhm, crossed a line. You were truthful with us. Let me be truthful with you. My colony allowed me to live in it until I was twenty, but I was forbidden from taking a mate, but I,” he glanced at Judith, “obviously did not listen and was caught with her. The king gave me an ultimatum. I had to leave or else.”

Bog nodded, “I see. And? Obviously, ye both left.”

“Oh, I begged for them to reconsider because I could not live outside the colony as a loner.” Dylan turned, his wings rasping as he looked out over the nearby river. He began laughing uncontrollably. “Judith broke me out of the dungeon and had a plan to escape, and we ended up in New Orleans.” Dylan laughed as Bog joined in, fully understanding the amusement in his story. Then he stopped and turned to Bog with a smug smirk on his face. “She’s a princess.”

“Ye got kidnapped by a princess?” Bog continued laughing. “But ye were a willing participant?”

“Well, no, I wasn’t.” Dylan frowned. “She drugged me to get me to go with her because I did not want to endanger her life. The pull to remain within a colony is powerful. If I had known what she had planned, I would have left so she would remain safe at home—within the colony.”

“Oh?” Bog stared at Dylan, unable to comprehend this pull and need. Was it that empty feeling he had often felt when he had to look in a mirror or a pool of water to see someone like himself? That was something he had experienced many times growing up. “Was it worth it?”

“I love Judith with all my heart,” said Dylan, looking out over the river. “I never wanted her to part from her family or me from mine. We didn’t both need to suffer.” He stood silent, and Bog watched him, unsure of the right words to say. This was completely foreign territory, even though he was completely at ease with talking to Dylan. Something about how open he was made it easy. “We need a real colony with a king, so we can be a part of a family again and make our own.”

Bog looked away, stunned. Is that what it would be? This would take a lot of getting used to if this was how his people were supposed to be. They were a family? It made sense in a way that the same bonds that connected a family through blood might also extend in another way. The old stories came to him, those of the great kings and queens who stood on the front lines to protect their people—their family. The whole colony was a family?

“King Bog,” Tiana’s voice called for him, and he turned to see Marianne walking onto the dance floor, arm in arm with Naveen. “Care to dance?” Bog’s attention lingered on Marianne and how the overhead lights gleamed on her gold-dusted skin and wings. He looked to Tiana and nodded, forcing a smile.

“I’m gonna assume you don’t know our dances.” Tiana touched his arm, and Bog stared at her hand. Yes, she would have to touch him to dance. He had seen enough of their dancing to know this, but his mind whirled back to the past years when nobody dared touch him. “Oh, and don’t worry about Naveen and Marianne. He is all talk and no action and isn’t really hittin’ on her. He flirts with every woman he comes across.”

“How do ye stand it?” Bog grimaced as the words escaped. Tiana laughed, sliding her arms around his as they walked to the dance floor.

“I know his heart is mine,” she replied without hesitation. “All mine.”

“Ah, thank ye for letting me know.” Bog nodded, glad that he didn’t offend her with the question. “Out of curiosity, what kind of fae are ye? I am not familiar with yer race.”

“I am Aziza, all the way from Africa,” Tiana replied with a proud lilt in her voice, tilting her chin up and flaring her wings. They lit up with light that passed into her skin, tiny lines illuminating all over her body. Her dress glowed, and she smiled at Bog. “Naveen is Aziza and Mariposa.”

“Ye are very beautiful,” said Bog, setting his staff against one of the columns supporting the vine roof. Then he stepped onto the dance floor with Tiana, her arm still around his.

“Thank you. You look good too. Now do what I do.” Tiana stepped away, dragging her hand down his arm to grip his hand. She flared her wings and moved slowly at first so that Bog could follow her. It wasn’t difficult. The dance consisted of mostly twirling around each other and a few easy steps and waving of their hands and wings. 

Bog felt ridiculous until he spotted Marianne, her laughter calling to him. Naveen’s mouth was moving as they danced together, doing the same moves, only faster and with far more fluidity. Bog tried to concentrate, but he had to see what Marianne was doing each time he heard her laugh. Tiana continually attempted to draw his attention back to her, with continual statements for Bog to watch her.

Still, Marianne was having fun without him, and he wanted to be involved. Tiana’s words had been forgotten, and his only thoughts were his wife was dancing with another fairy, a man who was far better looking and more charming than he could hope to be. Bog turned to Tiana, working over the problem and a solution.

#

“It is fun dancing with a new partner on occasion, is it not?” Naveen swayed in ways that seemed impossible, and keeping up with him was a challenge, but Marianne managed.

“To be honest, I haven’t done a lot of dancing for the last few years,” said Marianne, her cheeks flushed from a constant string of compliments.

“You jest!” 

“No, just not into it, and it wasn’t anything like this.” Marianne lifted her wings as Naveen did, one hand holding his as they swung around, then let go, twirling off the ground.

“You do the jitterbug well,” Naveen complimented, coming in close.

“Jitterbog?” Marianne almost choked on her words, laughing. “Is that what this dance is called, the jitterbog?”

“Hah, no! It’s the Jitter-bug.” Naveen corrected her, but it was already stuck in her head. Marianne glanced around and spotted her husband attempting to copy Tiana. Good. He needed to get out and try something new. 

Seeing Bog made Marianne want to stop and watch him or try the dance with him. However, he was busy with Tiana. They could dance together in a few minutes, and she looked forward to it. 

Marianne turned her attention back to Naveen, who gave her another of his charming smile as he said, “Vous dansez magnifiquement.” She laughed, pretending like she didn’t understand him. Naveen appeared to sprinkle in French phrases in an attempt to impress, which reminded her of Roland a little too much.

But Naveen didn’t do anything inappropriate. He was careful, skilled even, in how he touched and spoke. Yes, it was all sweet words and flattery, but there was no ill-intent behind it. There were no alarm bells ringing like there had been with Roland. This was just how Naveen was.

The music ended, and Marianne flew into the air after one final twirl, looking for her husband. He wasn’t difficult to spot, the overhead lights casting a glow over his gold-dusted body. She glided to land next to him and Tiana, hitting the ground with one foot, then pushing off of it to slam into his side with a laugh. 

“Whoa!” Bog laughed, tilting to the side.

“What did you think of the jitterbog?” Marianne wrapped her arms around his.

“The Jitterbog?” Bog stared at her, blinking in confusion. 

“Jitterbug!” Naveen called out, joining them.

“I don’t know, I like Jitterbog,” said Tiana, beginning to laugh. “He is a little jittery.”

“I’ve only danced with Marianne.” Bog grimaced, apologizing. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh no!” Tiana laughed louder. “We all have to learn. I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“Jitterbog.” Naveen snorted. Then he smirked, adding, “Your wife is light on her feet. Very nice.”

“Let’s dance.” Marianne grabbed Bogs’ arm. “Show me your Jitterbog.” She said it in a heated voice, and Tiana stifled a giggle. Bog gave her one of his looks that made her head swim, the sweet, inviting smile with half-lidded eyes, gazing at her as if she was the only person who existed in the world.

And then her towering husband slid his hand down her arm, lifting it to her mouth to kiss her knuckles, murmuring, “Donnez-moi mille baisers, puis cent.” Marianne blushed, the heat rising up her body in a whirlwind. “ Since when did Bog speak French? He had never mentioned he could. “Un autre mille, puis un deuxième cent.” Then again, she had never told him she could. “

Puis encore mille, plus de cent.”

Marianne stood there, knowing she was blushing like a silly teenager. Emotions bubbled inside, pleasant and sweet at Bog’s words and the purr in his voice as he attempted to get the words enunciated as smoothly as possible. It was so sweet, and she opened her mouth to reply but didn’t get a word out.

“Parler Français comme une vache espagnole,” said Naveen with a laugh, having been close enough to hear. Bog snarled, flaring his wings and looking over at the king who had Tiana in his arms, turning away from them in a twirl.

“Naveen!” Tiana gasped, giving Bog and Marianne an apologetic look.

Marianne huffed, glaring at Naveen and before she could stop herself, flew at him, shouting, “Ferme ta gueule!”

Tiana pushed Naveen away, and he staggered, a look of surprise covering his face. “I told you to watch your mouth.” She bowed to Marianne and stepped aside. “He deserves it.”

Naveen backed away through the dancers, his wings completely flat and loose in submission. Marianne advanced, wagging a finger in his face. “What gives you the right to insult my husband’s speech? Just because he isn’t a native speaker doesn’t give you any right to say that when he’s not even talking to you.” Marianne unleashed her fury as he staggered back, hands in the air now. “Bête comme ses pieds. Casse-toi!”

Still steaming, she turned, snapping her wings out in a full flare, the tip of one smacking Naveen across the cheek, sending a shower of gold dust into the air and leaving a streak. Bog stood where she had left him, his mouth partially open. The dancing had stopped, and so had the music.

“Je te demande pardon.” Naveen called out after her, following. “I did not mean to offend. It was a joke. Haha.”

“I am not amused.” Marianne glared at Naveen over her shoulder, sliding her arm around Bog’s, turning him, so their backs were to Naveen. “Let’s dance. You can talk to me all you want in French, Bog. I love it, and I love you.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tiana give her an approving smile and mouthed: We’ll talk later. Tiana walked up to Naveen and grabbed him by the arm, hauling him off the dance floor, presumably to verbally tear into him. The king looked mildly confused and sincerely regretful.

The music resumed, and Bog wrapped an arm around her waist as they began dancing among the startled fairies. He pulled her close, whispering, “Tu es l’amour de ma vie.”

“Je t’aime de tout mon coeur.” Marianne replied, her anger flowing away in a rush, replaced by adoration for Bog. “I like how you speak French, but I like your usual voice just as much.”

“My French is rusty.” He sighed as they danced among the other fairies who had returned to the dance floor. “My father taught it to me, along with Latin and Scottish Gaelic, Faerie, and English.”

“It’s good enough,” said Marianne, her eyes set on his. For a moment, she saw her warm, loving Bog, then without warning, his face went rigid, eyes turning cold and calculating. His arm tightened around her waist, and he swung her roughly behind him, his arm outstretched to shield her.

Marianne yelped and protested, then saw the reason for Bog’s alarm. Leaves from the vines above began falling as half a dozen forms dressed in black dropped out of them. There were more coming from the roof, followed by the sound of breaking glass as they went for the lights, plunging the rooftop into darkness.

They didn’t make a sound, but by the shape of their bodies and flashes of their long dragonfly wings, it was evident they were Dragonfae. And unlike the Dragonfae they had met earlier, these fairies were not friendly. They converged on Bog, circling him with long, black-bladed knives in hand, their intent clear. 

Marianne readied herself, ripping the skirt of her dress to access the dagger strapped to her thigh. Her fingers curled around the well-worn hilt, thankful she had insisted on some form of protection, even though she hadn’t expected anything like this. Bog didn’t have his staff, but he did have other weapons. His staff should be nearby, and he would move to get to it, and she would go with him. Marianne growled, preparing for battle as her husband’s far louder snarl vibrated through his body, wings rattling, challenging the attackers to come for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleeeeepy... soooo sleepy.


	17. Honored Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog and Marianne accept the invitation to stay the night, reluctantly, and Bog has a plan for weeding out a possible traitor.

The unusual smell of dirt was the first thing that triggered Bog’s senses that something wasn’t right. It came from above and not from the potted plants around them. Then there was the unnatural sound of the leaves rustling overhead—the telltale shifting of something moving through them. A lifetime in his forest had prepared him well for anything attempting to sneak up on him. Not wanting to alarm Marianne, he had moved them slowly toward where he left his staff. 

Whoever or whatever it was, made their move, cutting through the vines to make room for their bodies, and that was when Bog swung Marianne behind him. He needed his hands free and trusted her to figure it out and move with him. She could cover his back while he protected hers.

He didn’t think about the lights because they were never part of his environment at home, and when darkness fell around them, that was when a flash of terror hit him. Marianne could not see in the dark like he could. He would have to see for her as well as himself. 

Bog flared his wings, rattling in threat, crouched forward and ready with his fingers curled into claws. The Dragonfae coming at him appeared intent on them. Marianne’s wings brushed against his back as she moved closer, then she snapped, “Get out of the way, I can’t see.”

“Queen Marianne,” it was Dylan who spoke, having been on the dance floor near them with Judith. “Let us do our job.” Bog caught sight of Judith, taking up position on his side, a length of rope or something coiling in her hands. They had left, but not gone far. 

“Stop them!” Tiana shouted from somewhere in the darkness. “Protect our guests!” Light exploded from her body and wings, flashing out over the rooftop, momentarily blinding anyone looking at her. Even though Bog didn’t expect it, he had his head turned and saw it reflected in the eyes of the Dragonfae attacking him.

With a snarl, Bog surged into them, slamming a fist into one, a clawed hand raking over the face of another, going for their eyes. The momentary distraction was enough to send the attacking Dragonfae scattering to the sides. Bog didn’t look back, trusting that Marianne had Dylan and Judith by her. He had to trust them despite having had their pledges for only a matter of minutes.

Bog reached his staff and swung around, roaring as a trio of Dragonfae came for him, their blades reflecting the light coming from Tiana and several other fairies. In moments, what had been a celebration descended into chaos—a strangely ordered chaos. 

The big Naiad that had been playing with the band stood by Tiana and Naveen, his wings flared and a massive double-headed axe in his hands. The invaders were not making any real efforts to get to them, seemingly trying to distract them and keep them away from Bog and Marianne.

Everyone had some sort of weapon, even the women dressed in their Valentine’s Day finery, and they were not alone. A wave of Naiads emerged from the sides of the garden, sweeping in with gleaming weapons and vicious snarls. They set about getting most of the other fairies out of the area, sending them into the safety of the garden and on into the elevators. The Naiads lit up with gleaming spots of light. Their wings flared as they surrounded their king and queen first.

It was then that Bog realized the Dragonfae warriors were coming for him and him alone. They surrounded him, leaving Marianne and her guards alone, pushing him away from them and into the darkness. He fought back viciously, without holding back, swinging his staff in powerful arcs that sent them flying back, but then more filled their places.

A blade caught his arm, another smashing through his pauldron, shattering through a layer of plating. It happened so fast he barely had time to think, countering as many of the blows as he could while getting attacked from the back. 

With a roar, the biggest of Bog’s new people charged in, slamming into three Dragonfae, literally smashing them into a column with his bulk. He was followed by the others, each of them charging in with weapons or claws upraised, attacking with impressive ferocity. Bog staggered back, catching sight of Milo, clearly out of his element, shaking as he joined in with a curved dagger, slashing at one of the other Dragonfae, catching him across the face. If that one survived, he would likely be blinded by that attack with the way the blood flew into the air.

The Naiads came next, rushing in to finish the job, snarling, and taking out several more attackers. One of the Dragonfae screeched a retreating order, and they took to the air, fleeing as the Naiads and Bog’s small group of Dragonfae took off after them. Several more went down before they were clear of the rooftop, and then the agitated guards circled, making sure they were all gone.

Bog stood in the middle of half a dozen fallen Dragonfae, staring at them in horror as their blood pooled around him. Ice traveled through his veins as he heaved and caught his breath. What was going on? He was a visitor, and they shouldn’t have even known he was there. Why were they after him? And his head buzzed, seeing the bodies that had fallen, some by his hand.

Marianne rushed up to him, pulling at his injured arm, making him wince.” Bog! Are you okay?” Her brow furrowed as she looked at the gash on his arm, one of many. His vest hung in tatters where the blades had caught him, but his armor had done its job over most of his body. There were places the blades had managed to cut through, but none were severe.

“Nothing I can’t heal.” Bog sighed heavily, his attention now on Marianne. “Did they harm ye?” He bared his fangs as he spoke, wings rattling faintly.

“No, Dylan, Judith, and Link were with me.” She pouted. “They wouldn’t let me fight, and they’re all bigger than me.” The attempt at humor was not lost on Bog, and he focused on her instead of the dead.

“I am so sorry this happened.” Tiana joined them with Naveen close behind. Towering Naiads swarmed around them, still looking for an enemy to attack, their faces set with grim determination. “They’ve left us alone for months. I don’t understand why they would choose now. I thought they gave up.”

“They were after me,” said Bog with a scowl, looking at Tiana and Naveen. “Why were they after me? Nobody was even supposed to know who I am or that we were here! Maude was not supposed to tell anyone! This is why we have these rules!” Fury rolled through Bog, his wings snapping and rattling with each word, then he stopped, seeing the regretful look on Tiana’s face. 

Bog took a deep breath, attempting to settle his anger. That was the old Bog, not the new one. Control. He had to control his emotions. Marianne took his hand, running her other over his fingers and up his arm, knowing what would help calm him.

Tiana’s face wrinkled into a confused grimace. “I don’t understand why they would choose tonight of all nights to attack or why they went for you. I told my people we had visitin’ royalty because we wanted to honor you.”

“They came for me,” growled Bog, passing his free hand over his arm, pressing his fingers to a bleeding gash and healing it in a glow of golden light. “We need to leave. They might go after my family!” The realization made Bog shake, thinking about his defenseless grand-niece and the children. He couldn’t allow any harm to come to his family.

“No, there’s no worry,” said Naveen, stepping forward. “Let us explain. Those Dragonfae--they are aggressive and have killed every Dragonfae and Naiad royal family within twenty miles. They leave Soleil alone. We are not worth their attention.”

Bog looked at all the Naiads on the rooftop. There were far more Naiads now than there were Soleil earlier. “Why are there so many Naiads here?” The way they stood around Tiana and Naveen made a statement—that they served them, yet there had been none down in the habitations below.

“It’s a long story.” Tiana stared at Bog as he went over his wounds, one after the other, taking care of them. “When the Bayou Dragonfae began killing royals, the Naiads who live in the river beneath my restaurant entrusted us with their only child. He’s only six and not old enough to lead, of course. Last fall, they came in the guise of seeking peace and killed his parents. Since then, the Naiads who live here have pledged themselves to Naveen and me.”

“I see.” Bog nodded, his anger diminishing quicker. “And why does my family have nothing to fear?”

“We have the only fairy circle in the area,” replied Tiana, turning and motioning for them to follow. “Unfortunately, they are aware of the circle and would like to possess it as well as the only fairy here who knows how to make them. So they attack on occasion, testing our defenses.”

Bog glanced at Marianne, then they followed, flanked by their Dragonfae and Naiads, along with Lincoln and Hubert. “What does that have to do with me?”

“You are a threat to them because you are a Dragonfae king,” replied Tiana. “They may think you are scouting out new territory, which brings a critical question to mind. How did they know you were coming? Who told them?” She sighed, looking at the ground as she walked. “There’s a traitor in my colony.”  
#

The celebration was over.

Bog kept a hand on Marianne, his worries beginning to take over. A traitor? Someone who went to Tiana and Naveen’s enemies and told them they had a royal visitor, who was Dragonfae. What kind of fairy would do such a thing? For a moment, suspicions took reign, a voice telling him that the Dragonfae who had pledged themselves to him—one of them? One of them was a spy?

They had all participated in defending them from the invaders, but they were the same race, and it was possible one of them was a spy. But which one? Dylan was certainly charismatic and had gained his trust in moments, something which should have been difficult. Bog scowled. He liked Dylan—liked all of them in their brief interaction. 

What better cover than getting in close to him and his wife? No, it was not Judith or Dylan. They were in a position they would have had him at numerous points in the evening and during the battle. All they had to do was threaten Marianne—not protect her. 

He scowled, noting there was one Dragonfae who stood out among the rest who could have a very guilty conscience, given what Dylan told him. Milo was smaller than the others and drank far too much wine when he should have kept his senses clear. His story could be a lie.

“We would like you to spend the night,” said Tiana, leading them to the elevator. “I assume you wouldn’t want to stay up here, and it’s more secure below.”

“I would prefer to go home,” growled Bog, stepping inside.

“Me too,” added Marianne. “No offense, but being out in the open in a place they attacked once wouldn’t be comfortable.”

“We worry that if you leave right now, you might be followed,” said Naveen, moving to one side of the elevator as it filled with Naiads and Dragonfae. “It would be better if you go in the morning after the sun is up, and we can see everything.”

Bog scowled as the door closed with a clang, then they began descending. Again, Bog looked over at the Dragonfae and Naiads near him and Marianne. “Dylan, Milo, and you.” He gestured to one of the Dragonfae females, a plain brown girl with short spiky brown hair and green eyes.

“Raphaella,” she said, eyes wide at being spoken to. “Phae.”

“Phae,” repeated Bog, nodding. “I want the three of ye to come with me. I need to ask ye questions.”

“Yes, sir!” she replied eagerly, glancing at the concerned male next to her. “Uhm, sir.” Phae looked back at Bog. “Can Eugene join us?”

“No, I need to speak with ye privately.” Bog shook his head. “He can wait outside wherever we’re going.”

The female that kept close to Milo spoke up, her arm wrapped around his. “I can wait for Milo?”

“Yes, I just need to talk to them, and it may be a while.” Bog ran a hand over his mouth, annoyed and realizing that these Dragonfae were strongly attached to each other. “I do not mind if yer mates want to wait for ye.”

Rosa laughed, and Milo shifted, looking at the floor. “Milo’s not my mate. He’s my little brother.” She ran her fingers through his head leaves, and he sighed begrudgingly. 

“I see.” Bog raised an eyebrow at that. He had assumed they were all couples and hadn’t considered they might be family. The elevator stopped, cutting their conversation short.

“This way,” Naveen said, walking ahead. “We had a wonderful place for you in the Garden, but you can stay in our home. Again, I am sorry.” He took to the air, hovering with his broad green wings flapping slowly. 

Tiana sighed, shaking her head. “We don’t currently reside here because the children are too young. My mother is watchin’ them at our home, which is nearby and we’re gonna need to leave soon.”

“If you need anything, please, s’il vous plaît, ask.” Naveen hovered higher as everyone left the elevator and took to the air. Bog said nothing, still steaming over the entire ordeal and the needless danger they had been put in. What Maude did was reckless. It didn’t matter her reasoning. The rules were there for a reason—to prevent things precisely like this.

Far above the other residents in the small room, there was a platform set up against a stained glass window of a sunrise. It was dark, the lights set up to not show on it. Instead, decorative lights were set in fixtures at the front of the platform. 

The Naiads spread out, as did his Dragonfae, taking up positions outside what appeared to be a house that had the look of one of the many three-story townhouses that were all over New Orleans. It was white with black rails and metalwork on the porches and eaves. Several red columns rose along the wide porch, and the doors and trim were also red. Fairy sized lanterns glowed from where they hung all around the house, and the perfectly framed glass windows glowed from the light inside.

“It’s probably not as grand as your castle, but it’s home,” said Tiana, landing on the porch as Naveen opened the door. She stood aside, bowing her head. “Welcome to our home.”

“We live a tree.” Marianne gave an amused chuckle. “Full of goblins and caves beneath it. We don’t even have any guest rooms.”

“It’s a work in progress,” grunted Bog in offense. “We will make it far grander this year, especially if we have help.” He glanced back at his attending Dragonfae. Dylan, Milo, and Phae gathered behind them, with Judith, Rosa, and Eugene lingering behind them.

Dylan and Judith were perfectly calm. Milo looked like he would have a seizure at any moment, and Bog worried what would happen once he got him alone in a room. For a moment, he considered including Rosa, but that would be a problem. Phae appeared far too eager and nervous at the same time, fidgeting with her teeth set on her lower lip as she looked around curiously. Eugene looked like a fugitive about to enter a trap.

This was going to be a very long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, Milo and Rosa WERE a couple. At the last moment, I decided against it and made him much younger. It was a GOOD DECISION. I love Milo. He's a very troubled boy and has a great future purpose... in many ways.


	18. Interogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog begins interrogating his new followers, seeking to find out who the traitor might be, because he can not return home with a traitor.

The interior of Tiana and Naveen’s home was exactly like Maude and Lucien’s home--only in miniature. Servants rushed through the halls the moment they entered, given orders to start fires and freshen up the main guest bedroom. Bog and Marianne were given a brief tour, then Tiana and Naveen left, with promises to return in an hour. They still had human guests to entertain in the restaurant, but they would close soon and come back to check on them.

Marianne went over the events of the night as Bog sighed and undid the clasps on his shredded vest. He pulled it off and tossed it onto a chair near the bed in their room. A fairy woman immediately rushed to retrieve it and vanished into the hallway. That was typical and very much like home. If their surroundings had been stone and not white paneled walls, she would have been more comfortable.

As it was, they were in another strange home among people she didn’t know. But it wasn’t as bad for her as it was for Bog. His rigid, overly alert posture and twitching wings told her he was uneasy with this situation, far more than just being in a stranger’s home. The gouges were still in his armor, and blood covered parts of his body where he had been cut.

“I’ll help you clean up,” offered Marianne as a pair of fairies appeared with a large basin full of water and a stack of clean, white cloth.

“No, that’s unnecessary.” Bog waved them off. “Later. I need them to see me like this, to see the results of what they did so I can see their reactions.”

“Is that really necessary?” Marianne rolled her eyes at her husband. His need to put on a show and walk around with dried blood on his body was absurd. “Every one of them pledged themselves to you, and they fought to protect us. Do you think Dylan is seriously the traitor? I don’t see it in him. Not at all. And Milo? He’s a scared kid. Don’t even get me started on Phae. Why did you choose them to talk to?”

“We have known them for less than an hour,” said Bog with a note of displeasure in his voice. “Why do ye trust them?”

“Because they already put themselves between us and Dragonfae trying to murder us,” Marianne replied, scowling. 

“It could be a show.”

“I doubt it is.”

Bog sighed and gave his wife a tight, thin-lipped smile. “Marianne, my love, my queen, I believe Dylan is loyal, and he is here to help me see how the others react and to get information. I do suspect Milo, but not Phae. She’s just here to provide more answers.”

“Milo? Why Milo?” Marianne gathered her torn skirt to sit in a chair, awaiting an answer. The moment Rosa said Milo was her brother, he ceased to be an actual adult. It made so much sense. When they met, she thought he was just short and smaller than the others because they came in so many different body shapes and colors, with far more variation in their small number than in her people.

He couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen if that. There was no way that shy, obviously damaged, and hurting Dragonfae boy was a traitor. Then Bog began speaking, laying out his theory, “Milo is of questionable character, drinking when he should be alert. The others do not seem anything like him. They have adapted to their situation, and I would think his sister would be in a similar state.”

“I’m under the assumption he witnessed his father murdered in front of him.” Marianne folded her arms over her lap, the conversation turning serious. “And he’s a child. Just look at him. He’s a mess and needs a stable home colony.”

“Yes, which the Bayou Dragonfae would likely provide if he did a few favors for them,” Bog grunted, pacing and tapping his fingers together. “Favors such as tipping them off with information about royal guests. Maybe his guilty conscience caught up to him, and that’s why he was drinking tonight.”

“Or maybe, he’s a kid trying to bury his thoughts and emotions in alcohol,” pointed out Marianne, “and those falls off the roof… they weren’t accidents.”

Bog stopped pacing, turning to face her. “If he’s not of sound mind, then that would also lead to making deals with the enemy. I don’t know if we can trust him, love.”

“Look, I don’t know if we can trust any of them, but I know what I saw.” Marianne stood, laying her hands on her husband’s chest. She began picking at a piece of leather that had peeled up. “I don’t believe they are our enemy. They pledged themselves and the way they look at you? They don’t know you, and it’s like they’re all in love with you.” She laughed, patting at the leather, pressing it down. “Your Dragonfae.”

Bog sighed heavily, slumping forward to be closer to her eye level. “They look at you the same way, which is why we must do this right now. I need to know they can be trusted, and for that, I need to know more about them. I would appreciate it if ye are going to sit in that ye leave the questioning to me.”

“Oh, of course, my king,” Marianne bowed her head in false submission, then lifted her chin to press her lips to his. “Whatever you say,” she added, pulling away for a moment and gazing into his eyes before returning to another familiar and long-missed kiss. “I love you, prickles.”

“Prickles?” He chuckled, pulling her into a quick embrace. “I suppose that’s better than pinecone.”

“I’ll figure out a good name for you; just you wait.” Marianne laughed, squirming out of his arms. “Let’s get this over with. Milo is going to die of a heart attack if you keep him waiting.” She headed to the doors with Bog looming behind her. Whatever happened in the next few minutes, it needed to be over with and done. Spending the night would be nicer once they closed the doors and she was alone with her husband, the one thing in this place she knew well.

###

“Dylan, Milo, come with me.” Bog gestured for the pair of Dragonfae to follow him into a room adjoining the main room. He stood straight, at his full height, as the two walked inside, Dylan walking confidently and Milo bowed, twining his long fingers together in a motion Bog recognized all too well. The boy’s glasses slid down to the end of his nose, and he pushed them back up, beginning to breathe fast.

Marianne was already in the room. She gestured to the two seats they had pulled in front of the fireplace, facing a couch. In an attempt to put Milo at ease, she walked beside the boy, whispering encouragement. Bog sighed at what he was about to do, guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders at the haunted look he glimpsed in Milo’s brown eyes. The boy had glanced at him in passing, then set his eyes on the floor, lowering himself further, silently begging for mercy.

Bog followed them and sat on the couch next to Marianne, regarding the two young Dragonfae. “I’m sure ye know why I have called you in here to talk.”

“Yes, sir.” Dylan bowed his head, glancing at Milo, a brief flash of confusion rolling over his face. “You want to make sure that none of us were involved in the attack tonight.”

“That is correct.” Bog nodded, eyeing them. 

“It’s appropriate,” said Dylan, meeting Bog’s eyes as a show that he had nothing to hide. Very good. Bog approved of how Dylan handled the situation, that same feeling that he could trust this Dragonfae coming over him. He was straightforward and didn’t hide anything—an excellent trait to have. “But why Milo? I promise you. He did not do anything wrong. You don’t know him if I might be so bold to point out.”

Bog nodded again, turning his head to Milo. “What do you have to say, Milo?”

“I don’t know what you want to hear,” he replied in a quiet voice, lifting his head and attempting to make eye contact the same as Dylan, but he couldn’t. His eyes shifted to the sides behind his thick glasses, down and up—anywhere that wasn’t looking at Bog. He slumped further, and Marianne wriggled uncomfortably on her cushion.

“I don’t want ye telling me what I want to hear,” growled Bog. “I want to know the truth. Did ye have anything to do with the Bayou Dragonfae knowing we were here?”

“Sir,” Milo shivered as he forced his eyes to meet Bog’s, his voice a painful waver, “I did not. I haven’t left the Palace since I arrived last spring with my sister. She hasn’t left either. They killed my father when they took over our colony. They killed everyone of royal blood. Then they began a purge.” Milo’s voice began falling apart, his eyes glistening and wide as though reliving the events as he spoke about them. He lifted a shaky hand to push his glasses back up against his face.

“Milo,” said Dylan, reaching out.

“No.” Bog shook his head, and Dylan stopped, pulling his hand back with a frown. From the start, Bog had set his unspoken rules and among them was that he could not allow them to touch while he was talking to them. He regretted it but kept to them. “Go on, Milo. Tell me why ye aren’t a traitor to yer new king and queen.”

“Anyone who had skin like mine and Rosa’s,” Milo lifted his hands, palms up, staring at them. “Anyone who wasn’t blue, green, black, or mostly dark was forced out, and if they could not leave, killed them. It didn’t matter who they were or how old.” He shuddered, his glasses tilting to one side, looking back at Bog plaintively. “I hear them all, and I couldn’t do anything but fly with my sister. We escaped as our family paid for our lives with their own. I still hear their screams.”

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the soft sounds of music rising from the nearby restaurant. Milo had nothing more to say and slumped as though his words had fully drained the life from him. His glasses slid back down, and he let them sit on the end of his pointed nose. Dylan clasped his hands, staring at them as Marianne squirmed, laying a hand on Bog’s arm. Everything inside Bog locked into cold stone, fighting against himself to say something to soothe the boy, but he couldn’t. There were no words for such a horrific thing, and he was only topping off Milo’s bad experiences by leveling accusations against him.

At that moment, Bog decided that Milo was just a hurt boy and needed compassion, which neither he nor Marianne could give him at the moment. “I believe ye, Milo,” said Bog, turning his focus to Dylan. “Are any of them suspect?”

“I told you the truth about Judith and me,” replied Dylan. “We are not slaves to our kings and queens, but we would never turn on them once we give our pledges. You understood how painful it is to be forced out of a colony once you are in one?”

“Ye got the point across, yeah.” Bog settled back against the couch, and Marianne did the same but didn’t lean against him. They couldn’t get too casual. “Tell me about each of them and why they are loyal.”

“They are loyal by default.” Dylan said with a laugh, “You know about Judith and me, Milo and Rosa. There isn’t a dishonest bone in Phae’s body, but she can be overwhelmingly optimistic, and that can get tiresome. She’s the worst when she’s nervous, and she lived most of her life in the hands of an awful woman who was not her mother. Eugene, her mate, is also an orphan. He can’t keep his hands off of anything shiny and is a thief by nature. He can’t help himself, so you have that on him. Phae has been wonderful with getting him to control his impulses better.”

Bog made a face. One of his Dragonfae was an outright thief? “I don’t know if I want a thief in my castle.”

“He gives things back, mostly because Phae makes him. Eugene isn’t bad by any means,” said Dylan quickly. “He has other good qualities as a scout and strategist. You have to understand that if things go missing, he likely has them and will return them if asked.”

Marianne began giggling, and Milo lifted his head, smiling slightly. Bog made a face, realizing Eugene would likely cause many a headache in the future. “Okay.”

“Ralph, the big red guy,” Dylan moved on to the next subject. “He’s quiet and self-conscious about his size. He breaks things by accident and can be sensitive, but he’s also a great warrior to have on your side. His mate Penelope tends to keep him going in the right direction.”

Bog chuckled despite himself, a sense of amusement rising within as he began to see a common theme in the couples. They were paired up in mutually supportive groups, and he glanced at Marianne. This seemed to be a Dragonfae thing? They sought out mates with who they worked well with as a unit.

“Cliff was a healer in his colony before the Bayou Dragonfae invaded it and wiped it out entirely.” Dylan continued, shaking his head. “If the colonies were smaller, they killed everyone and took the children as slaves. Cliff was in training and escaped with Hazel. They were very young at the time.”

“Go on.” Bog listened intently. At least some members of his colony would be less of a worry than Eugene.

“Vincent, the blue Dragonfae with the scars, he was an orphan,” Dylan said sadly. “He was raised here as a small child, then vanished for five years. There are other groups of fairies here, sir, and they are not all as nice as Tiana and Naveen.” Dylan took a deep breath, shaking his head. “Vincent was put into gladiatorial fights for their amusement, and we found him after he lost one of those battles and was discarded like trash. Belle, who has also been here all her life, nursed him back to health, and they’ve been inseparable since.”

Bog frowned, going over the story that had just been presented to him. He didn’t like hearing about his people being abused, and he had noticed Vincent, a Dragonfae as tall as he was, lingering in the back in silence as though trying to hide the multiple scars on his face and body. 

“That covers the Dragonfae. What about the Naiads?” Bog inquired.

“Why would a Naiad want anything to do with the Bayou Dragonfae? They killed their kings and queens and all their high born they could find.” Dylan gave Bog a questioning look.

“Why would Naiads want to join me in my remote forest kingdom when they have a river here? Why would they give it up for streams and ponds?” Bog had his question read, and it took Dylan by surprise.

“They want to be in a smaller colony where they can play a bigger role,” Dylan replied slowly, thinking about it. “But that doesn’t mean any of them are traitors.”

“No, it does not, but you see why I would suspect them.” Bog glanced at Milo. “What is yer opinion?”

Milo blinked at him, startled. “Why would you want to know what I think?” He sat up straight, pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose.

“Because ye know more about being Dragonfae than I do,” retorted Bog seriously. “And ye know these Naiads, don’t ye?”

“Yes,” Milo’s forehead wrinkled severely. “Aenon and his mate Chantara are nice. They’re always hard at work doing something, but I don’t keep track of them. Same with Calder, Baia, and Loire. They are friendly with us, but we Dragonfae tend to stick together closer than the Naiads.”

“That’s true.” Dylan nodded in agreement. “We do not know them as well, but we have a difficult time thinking that any of us would do such a thing.”

“Those Bayou Dragonfae give our entire race a bad name,” Bog grunted, rising to his feet, stretching his wings. “I have heard enough to trust yer pledges are true, but I’m going to talk to Phae just to hear if she says the same as you.”

“We’ll all give the same statements.” Dylan rose, and Milo shakily followed. “We have lived together for years, and we’ve taken in every Dragonfae who has come into King Naveen and Queen Tiana’s kingdom. We are more comfortable with each other than we are with them because we know we can trust each other.”

“I want to talk to her anyway.” Bog motioned to the door. “Just send her in.”

Marianne got up, stepping in front of Milo, “Wait, I want to talk to Milo alone.” Milo stared at her in awe and dread, taking a step back.

“Is that necessary?” Bog scowled as everyone stopped moving. “I don’t want ye out of my sight, love.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Marianne rolled her eyes, motioning to a nook near the back of the room where there was a couch beneath a stained glass window and a massive bookcase partially obscuring the area. “I won’t leave the room.” She took Milo’s hand, and he looked at Bog, eyes wide with terror and worry, seeking permission.

“Go on.” Bog waved them off and turned back to Dylan. “Bring me Phae. I doubt we’ll be long, and then you can all go.”

“We’re not going,” Dylan stated matter-of-factly. “You were attacked, and we will keep watch tonight until you go, and maybe you should consider taking one of us back with you when you return to where you are staying.”

“That’s unnecessary.” Bog shook his head, not wanting to run any risks at all. “I gave you my word we will make arrangements for you to return with us, but we do not intend to cut our trip short. We have other business here, and I doubt these Bayou Dragonfae will figure out where we are if they haven’t figured out where a queen is who is living here. You didn’t.”

“A queen?” Dylan made a face. “We should have sensed a queen.”

“I have a suspicion you do not sense someone who has never passed through a fairy circle. At least she kept to that rule.” Bog shook his head, gesturing again to the door. “Good to know. Now, go and send Phae in.”

“Yes, sir.” Dylan dipped his head, then hurried away. Bog turned to look for Marianne and saw she was sitting in the corner, talking to Milo. Bog grumbled, watching them for a moment, making a mental note that he needed to tell the kid he wouldn’t be allowed to drink alcohol at home. He had far too many problems that drinking only pushed to the side. The kid needed to deal with his demons and put them down, especially when he seemed to have some good qualities to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Milo.... is just the sweetest, most adorable boy. :D :D :D I LOVE HIM SO MUCH.


	19. Interrogation 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog finishes his interrogation with Phae, who might as well be Dawn.

Marianne had managed to keep her mouth shut and not intervene in Bog’s interrogation of the two Dragonfae. It had taken everything she had not to stand up and tell him he was being ridiculous in thinking these two could have done anything against him. Milo was a teenager, most likely younger than Dawn, and he had seen awful things in his short life. He had lost his father in front of him, she was sure, even though he hadn’t said it in that way. Had his family covered him and his sister as they escaped? His mother? Older siblings? 

“I won’t keep you long,” said Marianne, taking him to the couch and pulling him around to make him sit. Milo was taller than her, but he walked in a low, submissive crouch, his wings drooping off the sides of his body. “Sit with me and listen.” He nodded, doing as he was told.

“Bog had to ask you questions to make sure because you’re a little different from your friends.” Marianne sat next to him, speaking low, so their conversation was just between the two of them. 

“I get that a lot,” mumbled Milo sadly, trembles passing through his body every few seconds. “Ma’am, I want to get away from here and the city. That’s all. I will do anything that is asked of me.”

“I know.” Marianne laid her hand on his arm, patting him. “When you join us, I want you to be free to be a kid, okay? How old are you?”

“I just turned fifteen,” replied Milo with a wince. “I was supposed to begin my full training after my fifteenth birthday. My father was so eager for me to come of age.”

“You’re still a kid, Milo, and when we get you home, I am going to see to it that you enjoy your first year with us and maybe work through your problems,” Marianne spoke gently, attempting to make eye contact. Milo lifted his head, peering at her curiously, confusion written on his face. “You will be a kid and have fun until you’re ready to do whatever it is you need to.”

“What?” Milo stared at her, his face contorting in further confusion. “But I need to serve the colony.”

“You will serve your colony best when you are mentally ready, Milo,” Marianne said sternly but with a smile. “I will talk to Bog, but you need to be free to explore and have fun.”

Milo pointed at his thick glasses, sighing. “Ma’am, I have never ventured far from my colony because I can not see things well that are far away. I’ve never left the palace once I got here for the same reason.” 

“We’ll work on it when we get home.” Marianne scooted closer to Milo. “We’ll do everything we can to make sure you are all welcome. Again. I’m sorry you had to go through this, but when we get home, it will be different.”

Milo smiled shyly, glancing away from her. “Thank you.” It was then she noticed he had stopped shaking. “Thank you, Queen Marianne,” he whispered, bowing again.

“You do not bow to me,” ordered Marianne in a haughty tone, reaching out to lift his head. “And call me Marianne. None of this queen business. Nobody actually calls me queen outside the throne room or formal events.” She smiled, passing her hand over his head, ruffling his head leaves like he had seen his sister do. It was a purposeful gesture, one she knew was particularly relaxing to Dragonfae.

Milo closed his eyes, smiling contently. “Thank you, ma’am,” he whispered, his golden face turning red. “Thank you.”

“I’ll escort you out.” She slid off the couch and slid her hand over his shoulder, keeping up the contact. It worked. Milo stood without shaking, standing taller than he had when he entered the room. “And one more thing, Milo,” Marianne met his eyes, “no more alcohol until you’re an adult. I’m sure your friends let you do it to help you, but there are other, healthier ways to handle your memories.”

Milo nodded, pursing his lips and looking down in shame. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Marianne,” she corrected him. “My name is Marianne, not ma’am. How old do I look?”

“I’m just being polite, Ma-rianne,” Milo apologized, his posture shifting lower.

“We’ll work on it.” Marianne smiled, ducking her head to make sure he saw that she wasn’t upset. He nodded, and the smile returned. “Great, let’s wait until they’re done.” She looked around the bookcase and shook her head at her husband.

###

Phae bounced into the room, her wings vibrating behind her. Bog made a face, the movement so familiar. Then he groaned inside, realizing Phae was a Dragonfae version of Dawn. She had the same delighted curious smile and innocent sparkle in her eyes that said the world was a wonderful place despite what she had seen.

“Do you need healing?” Phae asked, stopping in front of him, her attention on the now dried blood on his armor. “You should be treated, sir.”

“I’m fine.” Bog turned, motioning to the chairs. “Take a seat, Phae. I want to ask a few questions.”

“Can we remain standing?” Phae’s wings twitched, and she shifted from one foot to the other. “I can’t sit still.” Her face lit up, and she tilted her head, pointing at Bog’s head. “I meant to compliment you on your crown. Flowers are so much better than gold or gems.”

Bog rolled his eyes to peer at his wreath, the symbol of his change and a representation of his love for Marianne and her sister. He had thought long and hard about the simple crown on his head and settled on the fact that he would wear it forever. “It was a gift.” He smiled despite his efforts to stop it. “Now, Phae, please sit, and I want ye to tell me about your Dragonfae friends.

“Oh?” Phae did as she was told, sitting in one of the chairs, crossing her legs and gripping her knee in an attempt to hold still. “What do you want to know?”

“Whatever ye want to say,” replied Bog, settling back on the couch. “Tell me why I should trust ye and them.”

“Because you are our king, and we pledged ourselves to you!” The words burst out of Phae’s mouth, her face almost illuminating from within by her joyfulness. “Dylan and Judith are so smart and kind. They looked out for us and made sure to teach us everything they know about being Dragonfae.” She fidgeted, running her fingers over her knee.

“Eugene, that’s my mate, oh, please don’t hold it against him, but he takes things without asking.” Phae picked at the hem of her dress, gathering it in bunches in her hands. “He doesn’t mean to take things, and he gives them back if asked, or I tell him too.”

“I’ve heard,” stated Bog as Phae’s smile dropped, and she looked at him, worry in her eyes. “I already accepted his pledge, so go on, Phae. Tell me about you.”

“There’s nothing important about me.” Indecision flashed over her face, and she began sucking her lower lip into her mouth. “I’m not, oh, I don’t.” Phae’s face contorted in anguish as though she couldn’t think of anything to say about herself. “Not important.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

Bog grimaced, pushing the first words that came to mind aside. Telling Phae, someone had to bear children would be rude, even though that was the first thing he thought of looking at her as she struggled to find words. What was it Dylan had told him? She was optimistic and...?

“Phae, Dylan had good things to say about ye.” Bog decided to work her out of her current train of thought. “Don’t worry. Ye have a place in my kingdom because ye are Dragonfae. I already accepted ye.”

“I, uh, it was me… sometimes, it was me,” she began slowly, “that made a colony turn us away. We wouldn’t join a colony if we weren’t all accepted.”

“I see.” Bog scowled at that. What he had seen of his pledges was good. They all seemed like they would find their place, but then again, he asked little of his people. Their lives were not nearly as complicated as life in a colony would end up being with the addition of more Dragonfae. There must be other demands for them that weren’t a part of his colony. “Phae, nobody is unimportant, and I’m tired, so go on and tell me about the others and do not worry.”

“Yes, sir,” she nodded ecstatically, then continued. “Milo, you’ve already talked to him. He is very smart and very sad all the time. I think that’s why he drinks when there’s alcohol around, or he can get it. We don’t know how to help him. He’s a nice kid and teaches the younger kids. His sister, Rosa, she’s a warrior and protective of Milo. She saved his life when their colony was overtaken.”

Bog listened as Phae sped through each of the other Dragonfae. Her nervous movements, fidgeting, and squirming were distracting, but he paid attention. 

“Cliff and Hazel are both healers and came from a small colony. They taught me how to heal too! Oh!” Phae laughed, throwing her hands up, palms out to Bog. “I can heal! They told me I have a much stronger ability than they do!”

“Ah.” Bog smiled and nodded. “That is a good ability to have.” Phae smiled again, returning to the joyful exuberance she had when she entered the room.

“Ralph is very big and very sweet. He’s a warrior too, and he has Penelope. She’s a warrior. Most of them are warriors, and they’re all good to me and each other, like family. I don’t really know what that’s like, but I like to think that’s what we are.” Phae continued excitedly. “Then there’s Vincent.” She winced. “We grew up together, then he went missing, and nobody will tell me what happened to him, just that he was injured so bad none of us had the skill to heal him more than a little. Belle took care of him until he recovered.”

Bog sat up regarding Phae as she shifted around in her chair. That was all the Dragonfae, and she said the same about them as Dylan, except it appeared they spared her from the full truth about Vincent. He understood the reason. It was something she didn’t need to know about, a new fear that she didn’t need to have.

“The Naiads? What can you tell me about them?” Bog prodded her in a new direction.

“They’re all nice enough, but I haven’t spent a lot of time around them,” replied Phae, frowning in what was obviously disappointment she couldn’t say more.

Bog stood, gesturing for Phae to stand. “That’s all I need, Phae.” He motioned for her to follow as he went to the door. Marianne appeared from the nook with Milo close behind her. The boy was no longer shaking, even though his gait showed he still had alcohol in his system.

“Good night, King Bog, Queen Marianne.” Phae bowed to both of them in turn, then stepped through the door, bouncing into the adjoining room and into Eugene’s arms. Bog made it a point to meet Eugene’s eyes and scowl at him, a warning that hit its mark considering how fast Eugene looked away and moved out of view with Phae.

Before Milo could get through the door, Bog dropped a hand onto his shoulder and pushed the door closed. The boy trembled, staring at the door. Bog moved him gently away from the door, crouching to be at eye level with him. “Yer not in any trouble. Relax, Milo.”

“Yes, sir,” Milo whispered, glancing into his face, clasping his hands in front of him.

Bog glanced at Marianne, who stepped to Milo’s side, putting a hand on his arm. “We had a good talk. When we get home, I don’t want Milo to anything but be a kid.”

“Sounds good,” agreed Bog. “Did ye tell him he won’t be allowed into the wine?”

“I did.”

“Good. Good.” Bog removed his hand, rising to his full height. “Milo, I apologize for putting ye on the spot like that. I did not want to upset ye. That is not how I rule. I want yer loyalty and for ye to do what I tell ye to because ye respect that I know what I’m doing, not because ye are afraid. Do ye understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Milo stood upright, making an effort to meet Bog’s eyes, which pleased him. Bog smiled and nodded.

“Now, let me tell ye something ye will like to hear. I have a library that ye will be welcome to access and perhaps help me with.” Bog attempted to make up for how he had treated Milo in their earlier conversation. “Would ye like that?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Milo with a slight smile, his tone less stressed.

“Good, now, ye, I do not want ye staying up with the others. I’ll make sure ye have a room to sleep in.” Bog turned back to the door, putting his hand on Milo’s shoulder again. “I agree with Marianne. Ye need to be a kid.” He opened the door and stepped aside.

Milo’s wings twitched, rising behind him as he nodded, then bowed. “Thank you, King Bog, Marianne. Good night.” Milo passed through the door with a final smile at both of them. 

Bog closed the door behind him and turned to Marianne. “Should I correct them that it’s Bog King and not King Bog?” He gave her a wry smirk and sighed as she came to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning her head against his chest.

“Does it matter?” Marianne squeezed him, and he dropped his arms around her, taking a moment to enjoy being alone with her.

“I suppose it doesn’t,” mumbled Bog, looking around the now empty reading room.

“Do you feel better now?” Marianne ran her fingers up and down her back.

Bog paused for a moment, closing his eyes and enjoying the attention. “Yes, but I’m exhausted and just want to go to bed.”

Marianne stepped back, holding a hand up to Bog to show her fingertips wet with blood. “Bog.” She groaned and grabbed his arm, making him turn so she could see his back. “You have half a dozen cuts on your back that need to be healed.”

Bog huffed, sagging. “They’re shallow. My armor took care of most of them.”

“And it’s barely holding together on the back.” Marianne began fussing over him. “Let’s get you cleaned up, healed, then we’ll get some sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” Bog turned back around to face her, sadness seeping through his body, making every part of him heavy. “I wanted tonight to be special.”

“Yes, well, the two of us can’t expect anything good out of Valentine’s Day.” Marianne stood on her tiptoes, wings flaring out, and she kissed him fully on the lips. She lifted her hands to cup his face, drawing him closer, and for a few moments, his worries faded into the background. “I love you, my spiky king.” Marianne giggled, pulling back.

“Mmmm, je t’aime, ma reine papillon.” Bog grabbed her arm, lifting her hand to kiss it, enjoying the blush over her face. “Should I speak French more often?”

“Nah, you remind me of Naveen when you do that.” Marianne laughed, tilting her head down and batting her eyelashes. “I prefer you to him.”

“I’d hope so. Yer married to me.” Bog pulled her closer, squeezing her hard against him as she sighed and hugged him back just as hard. “Tha gaol agam ort, mo bhanrigh dealan-dè,” he repeated what he had said in French in Gaelic Scottish, then added in English, “I love ye, my butterfly queen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I watched all of Tangled the series and thing I have Raps down nicely. :D


	20. Healing Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Bog can heal himself, it appears his people may also share his knowledge and he begins learning about them.

“Phae, you’re the strongest healer?” Marianne inquired, stepping out of the reading room with her hand on Bog’s arm.

“Yes, ma’am.” Phae responded to the question with an added bow. “Do you need healing?”

“I’m fine, but Bog needs his back seen to.” Marianne motioned for Phae to follow. Bog moaned softly beside her, slumping, then grumbling, his wings rattling softly in displeasure. “Come with us.” Phae glanced at Eugene, who gave her a troubled look, then she joined Bog and Marianne.

Bog grumbled the entire way to their room, sulking, his wings twitching and rattling with each step. “Oh, don’t be such a big baby,” whispered Marianne, closing the door. “I’ll help you get your armor off so I can clean you up, and Phae can heal you.”

“Do you need help?” Phae offered, crossing the room.

“No,” hissed Bog, stopping by the table that held the basin full of clean water and stack of clean cloth that had been brought in earlier. “I’m uncomfortable removing my armor in front of others.”

“Why?” Phae innocently inquired as Marianne stood behind him, her fingers working nimbly to uncover the hidden clasps.

“For the benefit of my people,” replied Bog, removing his vambraces. He set them on the table next to the basin. “They are goblins, and they do not wear clothing, so they are under the impression my armor and leathers are part of me.”

“Why?” Phae tilted her head, seemingly confused by his explanation.

“He thinks it makes him fit in with them better, which is very important—to him,” said Marianne as the chest pieces fell apart in her hands, and Bog’s chest plate slipped off and crashed to the floor with a light thud. He stared at the damaged, blood-stained armor in dismay. “It did it’s job.” Marianne said, hoping it helped. 

“Yeah.” Bog heaved, flexing his wings. “Did they nick my wings? It seemed like they were only going for my armor.” 

Marianne took one of Bog’s wings in hand, running her hand down the supporting struts and studying his transparent wings from the base to the tip. “They look fine.” She went from wing to wing, careful about how she touched them. Wings were sensitive, and in his current move, tickling him would make him even grumpier.

Bog toed the pile of armor at his feet, grumbling as he distracted himself. “Go on. Sooner we get this done, the better.”

“It shouldn’t take long.” Marianne stepped around him, grabbing a cloth and dipping it into the basin. She wrung it out and went to work on Bog’s back as he grabbed another and began washing his hands and arms. 

Phae stood nearby, fidgeting, rocking from side to side as she waited. Marianne glanced at her, cleaning dried blood from Bog’s back. It was a miracle his wings had not been damaged. There was a single cut beneath one of the lower ones, a stab wound that hadn’t gone deep but was close to a supporting muscle. It broke when she wiped the wet cloth over it, the blood blooming bright red on the damp cloth.

Bog winced, and Marianne turned to Phae. “Here’s one to heal.” She stepped to the side, wiping the cloth further down Bog’s back. He slumped, raising his wings high. “Bog, this is no different than one of your healers tending to you. They all know what you look like.”

“Yes, but she’s Dragonfae and a she,” whispered Bog, looking around his arm at Marianne. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and his face bore a shade of red it shouldn’t have been. “I wasn’t exactly happy the first time ye saw me without my armor.”

Marianne gave a little laugh, playfully grabbing Bog’s ear as she moved out of Phae’s way. “She’s not trying to kill you.”

“Oh, heaven’s no!” Phae giggled, pressing her fingers to the gash and sliding them down the length, erasing it in a glow of golden light. “Why did you try to kill him?” She turned her eyes to Marianne, mouth parting a little in surprise. “I heard the story, but I didn’t understand why you were so angry when you could have just talked to him.”

“I didn’t know his side of things at the time.” Marianne slid the back of her hand over Bog’s cheek. He gave a contented sigh, closing his eyes. “Not everything.”

“I love him so much.” Marianne leaned her head against Bog’s, keeping his attention on her and not Phae as she worked. She stroked her fingers over his ears and neck, then into his head leaves, rearranging bits of the flower crown. “Bog made mistakes, but he has a good heart.”

“He took all of us in,” said Phae, trailing her fingers along Bog’s side to wipe away a few small cuts. “We will be happy to serve in your colony.”

“I’m standing right there,” said Bog with little conviction. Marianne kissed his forehead and continued distracting him, caressing his face. “Thank you, Phae. I already feel better.”

“That’s because I’m giving you a little of the energy you lost back,” said Phae, checking his other side. “Healing your own injuries is different from healing someone elses. You send a little extra energy to them, a boost, or they might not heal properly.”

“Ye know a lot about this?” Bog lifted his head away from Marianne and turned his gaze to Phae.

“Cliff and Hazel know much more.” Phae walked around to examine Bog’s chest and torso, getting between him and Marianne. “They taught me everything, and I’m sure they can teach you too.”

“I have books on Healing, but they are very old.” Bog tilted his head, watching Phae as she worked her way down his body, erasing scratches and small punctures he hadn’t bothered healing.

“They told me their colony had a lot of healing knowledge.” Phae cheerfully began explaining, moving on to Bog’s left arm, turning it, and looking it over. Most of the cuts had been healed, but there were still a few small ones remaining. “Most colonies don’t know anything, and others often came to them for healing. We’re supposed to keep it a secret from those who do not know, but I know you healed the worst of your injuries. What else do you know, sir?”

“I have books.” Bog shrugged as she moved to his right arm.

“So many books,” added Marianne.

There was a knock on the door, and Marianne turned to answer it as Bog slumped and gave an annoyed, guttural sigh. “Who is it?” she called out, reaching for the doorknob.

“King Naveen and Queen Tiana,” replied Lincoln from the other side of the door. “They want to know how you’re doing.”

Marianne opened the door to allow them inside. “We’re doing okay, just taking care of Bog.”

“Were you hurt bad?” Tiana inquired with great concern, stepping through the door with Naveen close behind. “It was difficult to see with your armor on.”

“I’ll survive,” replied Bog, his back turned to them.

“Your armor appears to have seen better days,” commented Naveen. He turned to several fairies standing in the doorway, clapped his hands together, and then motioned to the armor. “Take it to the leather workers and see if it can be repaired.”

Fairies rushed in, and Marianne stepped aside. Bog ignored them, but his face contorted into a deep scowl. Too many strangers were in the room, able to see him without his armor. 

“Phae, are you done?” Marianne inquired, glancing at Tiana and Naveen. “It’s been a long night, and we need to rest so we can get home early tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Phae stepping away from Bog. “I got everything. I could see. Maybe there are some small scratches.” She leaned in, peering closer at Bog.

“That’s enough,” said Marianne, motioning to the door. “Thank you, Phae. We appreciate it.”

“We’ll bring you something to wear in the morning.” Tiana said, remaining in the doorway with her husband. “Again, we are so sorry for what happened tonight. We wanted you to have a good time.”

“We did.” Marianne turned to them with a polite smile. “Dinner was wonderful, and we would still like you to visit us in our kingdom.”

“We certainly will.” Tiana bowed her head to Marianne, and Naveen did likewise. 

Marianne returned the gesture, adding, “I love the dress you had made for me.”

“Good.” Naveen purred, motioning to it. “I gave them the design and from your description thought it would look lovely on it. It would be a shame for it to be ruined. Avant de faire l’amour, enlève-le” He waggled his eyebrows at Marianne, and heat flashed through her cheeks at the statement.

“Naveen!” Tiana elbowed her husband in the ribs, her wings rising. “What did I say?”

“What? Just giving advice.” Naveen feigned innocence, turning to his wife.

Tiana gave her husband a dirty look, then returned to Marianne. “We just wanted to make sure you are doing well before we return home. Anything you need, ask one of the servants.”

Marianne nodded, glancing at Bog. He did not want to draw any attention to himself and remained standing by the basin, slowly washing his hands in the red-stained water.

“We’re good, but we wanted to make sure that Milo had a place to sleep since they are all trying to guard us.” She gave a little laugh.

“Yes, we have many rooms available.” Naveen gave her a quick nod as Tiana wrapped an arm around his arm, stepping outside the room. “We will do that.”

“One of the things that I like about Dragonfae is their loyalty,” said Tiana with a smile. “If it weren’t for knowing the ones you’re taking, we would have a very different view of them.”

“I did not grow up surrounded by my kind in a colony,” said Bog, turning to face them. “But from stories my father told me, that is not normal behavior from Dragonfae. We are not conquerors or invaders. We keep to ourselves, and only under extreme stress would we attack another colony. We don’t burn libraries and pick out our people by color and kill them.”

“Dylan has spoken to us about this before.” Tiana shook her head, frowning. “We know you are not the same, and something is wrong with them. Don’t worry, they don’t have the forces to get past the Naiads, and we will figure out who the traitor is.”

“But they did get past them tonight.” Bog scowled, motioning to Marianne, “And they endangered us.”

“It will not happen again. We were informed several guards fell asleep after being given water tonight.” Tiana looked from Bog to Marianne. “We will get you on your way in the morning, but understand, normally, nobody gets into our garden. We will find who it is, and they will be punished accordingly.”

“Thank you.” Marianne looked at Bog. He had turned away again, drying his hands on a clean cloth. “We need a fresh basin of water.”

“I’ll have another sent up.” Tiana said as she and Naveen bowed a final time. “Good night, Queen Marianne, King Bog.”

“Good night.” Marianne bowed again as the pair stepped through the door. She closed the door behind them and turned to her husband. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Bog grumbled and began running the cloth over his cuisses. “I hate Valentine’s Day. I thought we could be like anyone else and enjoy it, but because it’s us… the day tried to kill us.”

Marianne couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe we should outlaw it.”

“I tried that,” said Bog ruefully, “and you tried to kill me.”

“To be fair, you deserved it.” Marianne crossed the room, her wings held high, fanning the air slowly behind her. “You were a jerk.”

“The end result of my decisions involving spring involved you taking my heart.” Bog smiled, looming over her as she stopped in front of her.

“The end result was you taking mine.” Marianne touched his chest, then traced a heart shape over the center of his chest. “This day isn’t for us—every other day of the year is.”

“Agreed. We will never celebrate this day again.” Bog mumbled, leaning over to kiss her on the head. “I love ye, my love.”

“And we don’t need a day to prove it,” whispered Marianne, slipping her arms around him and leaning into his welcoming embrace.

###

Bog curled up around his wife in a familiar oblong bed, typical of fairies. It wasn’t quite big enough for him, but they made it work. When the basin of freshwater arrived, it came with a tray with two large mugs of warm, spiced milk. After the long night, that was all it took.

They slept soundly with Bog holding Marianne in a secure embrace, keeping her safe from whatever dangers lurked outside. And the thoughts he went to sleep to went from how much he loved his wife to the fact that he had people—and they would come to live in his kingdom. 

Dragonfae, like himself, wanted him as their king, and they had pledged themselves to follow him. Mom would be so surprised when he told her. More people who would be awake during the long, cold winter months, and they would be there to help him. Their entire purpose in life… was to help him and Marianne.

They were overwhelming thoughts. Surrounded by goblins his entire life, actual help was rare. The goblins tried hard, but few were intelligent enough to do more than a few rudimentary tasks, leaving the heavy thinking to Bog. Having others who could assist him would take a massive mental load off of him. 

He would have more time to devote to Marianne and other pursuits. Their life would change over the summer as he taught his new people how things were in his kingdom, and they would teach him as well. That was an even more intriguing thought. Dagda was a good teacher, but he wasn’t Dragonfae and didn’t know their ways. Dylan and Judith would be good advisors. He had seen it in them from the start. And the others? There was much he could learn from them all, and they would create a strong kingdom that would welcome more members in the future.

Bog smiled, kissing the top of Marianne’s head. Children. His kingdom would be full of goblin children, Dragonfae, and Naiads, and by next winter—he and Marianne would have their own children among them, spending the winter safe and warm in their home. Unlike him, they would grow up surrounded by faces like their own, flying through their great tree, exploring the fields and forest.

It was a wonderful dream to fall asleep to, innocent, smiling faces and imagined laughter and heartwarming joy—their children. Next winter would be the start of their hopefully long family line. Bog yawned, the smile set on his face as he snuggled closer to Marianne, inhaling her comforting scent. He drifted off into his dreams of children who loved him. They called to him, wanting his attention and love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such wonderful dreams for Bog. :)


End file.
